Young Immortals
by Winnett
Summary: Ten years have passed and Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny have done nothing but perfect their skills in preparation for their final battle with Voldemort. None of them expected they would run into Snape, well except maybe Ginny. HxS Vamp
1. BIT 1

**Title:** Young Immortals (Chapter 1 of 13)  
**Author:** winnett  
**Pairing: ** Harry/Snape  
**Rating:** PG13-NC17

**Genre:** Adventure/Romance

**Summary: ** Ten years have passed and Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny have done nothing but perfect their skills in preparation for their final battle with Voldemort. None of them expected they would run into Snape, let alone did they foresee the price he would demand for his teachings. Well, nobody except maybe Ginny.

**Warnings: ** Blood. Male/Male sexual situations. Language. Rimming. Violence.  
**Disclaimer:** This is a work of fiction based in the world created by J.K.Rowling. They aren't mine and I make no money from them. No toes were intentionally stepped on.  
**Author's notes:** Yet another vampire!bonding!fic that every vampire fanatic must write. What can I say, I love vampire fics. Written prior to Deathly Hallows during NaNoWriMo 2006. Spoilers for all books prior but no intended references to the final book.

Thanks so much to asrai99 who has reviewed my story! You are amazing. All mistakes are mine and by all means, let me know if you find any.

**Word count:** Approximately 4,839 of a total of 54,000

* * *

**BIT 1**

_"Severus, I'm afraid to say it, but you cannot stay here any longer. The people don't understand, even after we explained your part in this most worthy cause." Minerva McGonagall's accent weighed heavy with worry._

_"We're putting you into the Sentinel Program and we have a location for you." Kingsley Shacklebolt handed Severus a set of Muggle papers—far too smooth and uniform in his hands. He scanned the first page, then the second and looked up at the two Order leaders before him._

_"You wish to send me off to Austria to rot?" It wasn't so much a question as his eyes pierced them with accusation._

_"Now, Severus." Minerva laid a calming hand on his arm, which he yanked away in spite. "The Sentinels are very important, especially now that Voldemort has fled." She tsked to herself and Severus Snape sneered in return._

_What had these people thought? That the Dark Lord would remain in the open while his Horcruxes were being destroyed one by one? Even infected with insanity and megalomania, he had more of a survival instinct than that. Did they think he had been sorted into Slytherin by simple chance?_

_And damn that Harry Potter. Incompetent brat. If only he had listened to Severus, but the young fool had thought he knew best, as all headstrong teenagers seem to. Voldemort had escaped and Severus' cover was blown and now he had to hide himself away from the world in the bitter Alpine cold. Hidden away like something shameful. Severus hated being the secret nobody wanted to keep._

_"The manor is quite extensive, there is a laboratory in the basement, and we'll set up a support Floo to send you any necessary items you might need," Kingsley explained._

_"Wonderful," Severus mumbled to himself, "They have my exile meticulously planned out."_

And he had left as they had arranged, because he had nowhere else to go, nothing else to do. He would fade away into obscurity, a watchdog tucked away in a mountain of rock, waiting for the Dark Lord to show himself. Severus laughed a dark, bitter laugh, and immediately regretted it.

"Ah, the filthy man laughs. Laugh, little man. Laugh at your decay!" The screech sliced through the empty halls of the manor house, fluttering the molding tapestries and causing the layers of dust to shift and stir. "Expel your last breath with that laugh, because nothing could amuse me more than your death."

Severus rose from his chair, hunched over with his long, gray hair shielding his face from the luminescent woman who slipped through the bookcase to his left, startling the silverfish dining within.

"Leave me be, apparition," Severus snapped at her, his old baritone now feeble, laced with creak and wheeze.

"This old house holds nothing but ghosts," she giggled, high and irregular. The ghost appeared to be a young woman, buxom and dressed in a full gown; her misty hair, a wild tornado floating around her head. "Ghosts and the living dead. Let it all putrefy, just like your old and shriveled heart."

She swirled around Severus, lightly rustling the air around him. He batted her away like a buzzing fly. One of these days, when he drew up the energy to actually care, he would brew up a potion so foul it would rend her spirit in two. He would trap one half in the portrait of Saint Sebastian--that righteous little martyr always whined about the pain--and the other in the attic with the ghouls. That should keep the resentful bitch _amused_.

He shuffled past the fireplace—the Floo long dormant due to lack of upkeep—and accidentally caught his reflection in the full-length mirror set in the wall beside it.

A feeble, old man stared back at him, a stranger with skin the shade of maggot bellies and wrinkled like a crumpled, linen suit. The gummy eyes held no light and the ever present scowl no humor.

"Not lookin' so good, are ya, hun?" said the mirror in a sweet, Midwestern American accent.

He should have shattered that mirror years ago.

* * *

"I will taste you. Slurp your blood. Nibble your flesh. Suck out your…" The frenzy of taunts ended in a squelching thump followed by a series of gurgling noises as the kobold slumped to the floor, a thick shaft of wood embedded in its temple.

"Well," said Ron dryly, "that was impressive."

"A chair leg?" Harry was scandalized. "You killed it with a chair leg?"

Hermione dusted the dirt off her blue jeans. "Well, I had it on hand. All this furniture is rubbish anyway." She gestured to the piles of broken chairs and tables littered across the floor and kicked at an old copper tea pot. It rolled a few rotations away before it rocked itself to stillness.

Ginny, however, was applauding. "_I_ thought it was brilliant. Bravo!"

"A chair leg?" Harry whined.

"Yeah," Ron piped in, "couldn't you have tried something a little more… flashy?" He turned his body around, scanning the room for something with some flash. After he faced Hermione again, he lifted his wand and shook it at her, as if in reminder that such at thing actually existed.

"Mundane got the job done, Ron. Now come on, I'm hungry. Whose turn is it to cook?" Blatantly, she stared at Ron, with Ginny's own gaze joining hers. Neither looked impressed.

Ron's eyes darted around aimlessly, avoiding the women. He started whistling a flat tune as he stuffed his hands in his back pockets.

"A chair leg?" Harry said once more, still staring at the corpse. Little islands of brain matter and skull fragments were populating an ever growing pool of blood.

"Yes, Harry, a chair leg," Hermione said frustrated, arms akimbo, obviously ready to be done with the conversation.

He tore his gaze away from the expanding blood lake. "But, you don't expect to take down Voldemort with a chair leg, do you?" Harry asked.

"Well, probably not. But remember, we did take down …"

"…a troll in our first year with _Wingardium Leviosa_," they all finished for her.

"Oh, do shut up." Her hair tossed about as she scolded them. "Ron, you're on for dinner. And I am sick of macaroni and cheese; I want something with substance." Hermione grabbed her bag and tromped out of the dilapidated house; her sturdy boots crossing the plank wood floor caused echoes to rebound through the empty rooms.

"Ginny." Ron had that tone to his voice that suggested he was ready to beg and would do anything to get what he wanted. She returned his plea with a blank look. "Will you do dinner tonight?"

"I did your last dinner Ron, so no, I won't." She turned and lifted an arm in a departing wave, and left the building, too.

"Harry?" Ron began.

"A chair leg?"

"Fucking hell, Harry. Get. Over. It." Ron took a deep breath. "Please."

"Yeah, I suppose," he said, a heavy sigh lending a touch of defeat to words. "Ron, do you think we're doing any good? I mean, getting any better? Last week Ginny took out a Pogribin by pushing it down the stairs. Sure, none of us much cared at the time, but… magic, Ron. Aren't we supposed to be wizards? We might as well pull out our pistols and dress in chain mail, leave our wands on our night stands." Harry kicked at the kobold's body with his boot releasing a stench so strong it turned his stomach. Together they darted out of the room.

"Harry, does it really matter how we complete the job as long as we get it done? Think of this as a way to test our improvisational skills. We can kill with any tool, mundane or magical. Isn't that good?" Ron offered a cheeky grin.

Ron was right and Harry knew it. They'd been traveling all over the world studying under various masters and taking on odd eradication and detection jobs for the last ten years, just waiting to hear word that Voldemort had resurfaced and they could finally kill the bastard and get on with their lives. Any skill they could improve upon helped them in their final cause and being able to kill with odd kitchen implements probably rated just as high as tossing off a few _Sectumsempras_ at 'their enemies.'

Still, there just wasn't as much _dignity_ in braining something with a chair leg.

"So, will you do my dinner?" Ron finally asked, dragging Harry out of his head space.

"Okay. Yeah, sure."

"Yes? Thanks mate! I owe you." Ron slapped him on the back as they descended the stairs from the second floor, remembering to skip the third step that was rotting away.

"Sure as hell you do, you owe me… what is it now, seven dinners? Not that I'm keeping track."

"But you like cooking," Ron informed him.

"So what? Doesn't mean I want to do it all the time." Harry picked up the bag that he'd tossed to the floor when the kobold had attacked. They each had one. Ginny called them their Battle Bags and they held a menagerie of death dealing tools, as well as a few incarceration instruments such as handcuffs and blindfolds. Each also had a reduced broom, a Sig .45 German pistol, an emergency set of potions and a back-up wand. It was a mix of magic and Muggle and was constantly being modified and improved upon.

Harry and Ron left the abandoned country house and found Hermione and Ginny leaning against an old willow tree that grew beside the dirt road leading back towards a small village. Small flowers bloomed in the high grass. Hermione had a book out and was reading a page halfway through it. The years hadn't been kind to any of them, but in these moments when they were all relaxed, Harry could remember what they were like when they were kids, when life had been less tedious and a future had seemed a possibility.

Then he snorted. When as a child had he ever thought a future was a real possibility? He had constantly lived in fear of dying, if not from a rogue bludger then from the unceasing pursuit by a very focused madman.

"So Harry, Ron talk you into cooking?" Ginny asked. Her eyes were closed as she faced away towards the setting sun that highlighted a few thin clouds in pinks and purples.

"Yes," he said.

"Good." Hermione let out a relieved sigh, eyes still pacing along the print on the page. "Shall we stop by the market then?"

"Since we have nothing in the larder, we need to. How do shepherd's pie, fresh bread and strawberry cheesecake sound?"

Hermione looked up from her book and beamed at Harry. "You know I love you best, right?" She tucked her book away into a pocket and stood.

Harry laughed. He loved his friends so much it often made his heart ache, and he offered thanks to every pantheon of gods he could think of that they hadn't abandoned him on this quest years ago. "Only 'cause I keep you fed."

"Well, all this fighting evil works up an appetite," she said as she patted her flat belly.

"And none of us can cook worth shite," added Ron.

The four friends laughed as they walked down the lane lined with little, yellow blooms to the village they'd been calling home for the last six weeks. They'd been sleeping on the floor of a renovated barn, sharing the kitchen with the wizard who had been teaching them spells ranging from tracking charms to dismemberment curses. These days they took any training they could get.

Often their Mentor of the Month—another of Ginny's title creations—would send them on 'chores,' usually involving dispatching some nasty beasty that was terrorizing the locals. It provided a nice break to the monotony of their daily drills and workouts.

Ginny cleared her throat and said, "Going to rain."

Harry looked up at the sky, counting the clouds floating above. "You sure?" he asked.

"Yep."

"So, when's Voldemort going to surface?" he asked quickly.

"Don't know…. moment's fleeting," Ginny said rather airily, casually flicking her arm through the air.

"Damn," Harry cursed under his breath.

"It'd be useful if we could harness these premonitions you get, Ginny," Hermione said, rummaging in her pack for a rain jacket. "Time, subject, place. Anything would help."

"I know!" Ginny said, exasperated. She took her frustration out on a stone and kicked it to the roadside. "I would if I could but I can't so there… And Ron… I would stay in tonight if I were you."

Ron glanced down at her in surprise. "What? Why?" he asked. "What do you see?"

"Well, I don't really get a _see_ this time, more of a feel. You wouldn't be happy when you come back tonight," Ginny explained.

"Come back tonight? So, no sleep-over for me?" His lip extended in a pout.

"Ron, you've been out with every woman in town already, maybe _that's_ what's going to be the piss in your ale his time. Last town didn't the women band together and throw rotten fruit at you in honor of your last night there?" Hermione asked, smirking.

Harry laughed at his friend, but his heart wasn't fully in it. They all handled their situation in different ways. Ron had turned slut, sleeping with anything bearing tits. Ginny grew whimsical and somewhat spacey, though her developing seer abilities probably had a hand in that. Hermione, who at the beginning of their training micromanaged every single detail of their lives, had quite embraced a _laissez-faire_attitude about it all, even killing monsters with chair legs. Harry… now Harry didn't think he'd changed much. He was a little quieter and took to hobbies that he could practice on his own, but really, he felt he was pretty much the same person he'd always been.

Ginny shrugged at Ron's question. "Don't know; just what I told you. It isn't a good night for you. Rein it in, you stud." She giggled.

Right before they reached the market a soft rain began to fall. Harry grabbed the things they needed and paid with what little Muggle cash they had, and then they ran to their barn as the droplets turned to bullets that pummeled them in autumn fury.

"Ginny, you said it was going to rain, not downpour. Ugh, I'm soaked." Ron stripped off his wet clothes and tossed them over a wooden railing that had once separated a horse stall from the rest of the open area. The girls adamantly ignored him—they'd seen too much of that already—but Harry glanced at his friend's form. He'd seen enough of it too, but he still enjoyed the view. Maybe he had changed a little after all.

Ron pulled on a set of dry robes as Harry collected their foodstuffs to take to the kitchen and prepare dinner. The others had simply used drying charms, but Harry secretly thought that Ron liked to strut around naked as much as possible. Hermione lounged on a shoddy couch propped up in one corner with bricks reading a book while Ginny started on a set of sit-ups. Everything on par for a typical evening.

He hadn't lied when he said he enjoyed cooking. It was one of those things he'd learned that he was not only good at, but that had also become a sort of refuge for him. Nobody wanted to hang around him during mealtime, just in case they ever got enlisted to slice potatoes or grate cheese, and any time alone, especially over the more recent years, he cherished more than Christmas morning. There was no doubt he loved his friends, but even with loved ones, enough was enough.

"You got demoted to cook again?" asked Abbot Sabelli, their Mentor of the Month, who had just walked into the shared kitchen. He was a tall, thin Italian man who was quick to share his knowledge.

Harry shrugged. Over the years they had had countless teachers, yogis, masters, professors, and trainers of many levels in many fields. He'd long since passed the point where he got attached to any of them, and Mr. Sabelli was no exception. "I don't mind, sir. It lets me think. Would you like to join us?" Harry always asked and the answers ranged the broad spectrum from adamant 'yes' to fearful 'no.' Mr. Sabelli usually took up the offer, if only to try the 'ethnic' food Harry cooked.

"Yes, thank you." Mr. Sabelli poured himself some coffee and left the kitchen, leaving Harry to his work.

With chopping, dicing and mashing of boiled potatoes the shepherd's pie was finished and the bread warmed in no time. Harry called in the others and they all jockeyed for positions around the small table to enjoy a quiet dinner. Or Harry hoped, but Mr. Sabelli always asked so many questions.

"So, how was your extermination today?" he asked between mouthfuls of pie and bread.

A very long pause followed his question.

"Fine," Ginny finally said after nobody else had spoken up. She was sitting to their teacher's left and they kept bumping elbows when they reached for the butter. "Hermione killed it with a chair leg through the temple."

Harry groaned quietly. Ron rolled his eyes.

"Well, it worked," said Hermione.

"A chair leg?" Mr. Sabelli asked, confused. Everyone grumbled, except Harry—he released an amused snort.

* * *

"I think it's time we move on." Ron sat with his back to the plank wall, the wood gray against his brightly colored sweater, tossing a knife up in the air, watching it flip a few times and then catching it on its dive down. Sometimes he would throw it at a target set up near the far side the barn and _accio_ it back. Other times he would toss it high, pull out his wand and send it flying through the air with a special _Wingardium Leviosa _he'd developed.

"Shagged all the girls already?" Ginny asked. She glanced over at her brother who only shrugged.

"I agree," Hermione said. "I don't really think Sabelli has much to offer us. That trick with evaporating the blood within the body was interesting, but he hasn't really shown us anything new."

She was nested in her usual spot on the couch, tucked into the same novel. Ginny was sitting next to her with Hermione's feet in her lap, both wrapped up in a wool blanket. Ginny was reviewing a set of scrolls, their most recent correspondence from the Order detailing any possible Voldemort sightings. It also contained a list of potential Mentors of the Month. They usually left it up to Ginny to decide where to go next.

"So, Gin, where to?" Harry asked. He was floating about six inches off the ground, sitting Indian style with his eyes gently closed, lips softly chanting. He had been working on the hovering mantra for about three months now ever since they had returned from India. He'd gotten quite steady at it.

"Well, there is Michael Moorehouse in the Ukraine. He specializes in Dark creatures. Dragons, maybe."

"Didn't Torhu back in Japan say that Moorehouse was dead? Eaten by a chimera?" asked Hermione, turning a page in her novel as she spoke.

"Oh yeah," Ron agreed. "It was a complete fluke, too. The guy was an expert in his field and that chimera attack was totally unexpected. Poor sod." Ron picked up the blade and tossed it in the air again. Light reflected off the steel, threading rainbows through Ron's red hair. "Anyway, I don't want to go back to Russia."

"It isn't Russia, it's the Ukraine," Ginny corrected him, sounding frustrated and tired of a conversation rehashed far too often.

"Don't much matter does it, don't want to go there."

"Sheesh Ron, pout why don't you." Hermione looked up and gazed at her ex-boyfriend. On instinct he glanced over at her, and in that moment of distraction missed the knife, which landed with a 'thud' into the wooden floor, narrowly avoiding his crossed legs. Ron looked at the narrow miss aghast, then up at Hermione who smiled sweetly at him and then returned to her book. "Ginny, do you get a sense about where we _should_ go?" She turned a page.

Harry slowly lowered himself and looked over to his friend. They'd dated for a while, had had some really great sex, but after Ginny started seeing the future she wanted nothing to do with a relationship with Harry anymore. She wouldn't tell him why and he'd finally dropped it, but not without some complaint. Going from regular, quite energetic sex to nothing at all had been hard to grow accustomed to. So one night while in the southwest United States, they had imbibed far too much local beer and had gone out on the town. That fateful evening proved to Harry that when you're starving you'll eat anything, and that men had a flavor all their own.

He'd had a grand time of it initially. He would hit the town with Ron and have double the people to ogle and a few more to choose from than his narrowly straight friend. But while a good romp in the sack relieved excess tension, it did nothing for his generally romantic heart and he stopped after one woman swore her undying love for him and all he could say was "thanks for the shag."

He hadn't had sex in almost two years.

He missed Ginny, the old Ginny who had a fiery temper and a strong will, but he loved this new, softer Ginny as well. While they weren't lovers, they were still very close, and he cherished that connection.

As Ginny closed her eyes and started running her finger along the list of names, Harry watched on. They'd often chosen where to go next by this very unscientific method, but they had nothing else to direct their travels or training, and Ginny's guess usually led to some very interesting places.

"Here," she said with a flourish, planting her finger firmly on the paper. She opened her eyes and looked down. "Eisenstadt, Austria, near the Neusiedler Sea. Fraulein Gabriella Bethlen, specializing in Earth magic and estate protection spells."

Ron tossed his knife into the stall boards, then stood and walked over to the couch. The arm of the couch creaked as he leaned on it to read the scroll where Ginny pointed. "Haven't we studied that already?" His brow was wrinkled as he tried to remember exactly what they had studied where and with whom over the past ten years.

"Yes, Ron, we have," Hermione said, finally putting the book down. She lifted her feet off of Ginny's lap and scooted closer to read the scroll as well. "But not together and we haven't learned Austro-Hungarian forms of Earth magic." She shrugged. "It'll be cold," she added offhandedly.

"Why do you read that stuff?" Ginny asked, checking out the cover of the novel that displayed a long haired, well built man holding onto a petite, obviously helpless looking woman.

"What else do I have to read?" Hermione asked dryly. "Anyway, not all of us can run off to town and shag half the populace, nor do we want to." She leaned back into the couch and buried her nose into the book again, a slight pink blooming on her cheeks.

Ron chuckled. "Not half the town. I'm not that good…_yet_."

Ginny batted at Ron with the scroll. He darted to one side and snatched it from her hand. A minor battle resulted until Harry picked up a balled up shirt and threw it at them, grinning.

"Is that a challenge, Potter?" Ginny asked.

Harry grinned some more.

"Fine."

In the blink of an eye all four adults sprung into action. Hermione tossed her book at Harry's head, who shifted his weight a minute degree and let it sail past harmlessly. Ginny grabbed a pillow and whacked Ron upside the head with it, while he poked Hermione in the back of her neck with the scroll.

Throughout the battle they laughed out loud.

* * *

"We all wanted to thank you, Mr. Sabelli. It has been an honor studying under you for the past few weeks." Harry shook Mr. Sabelli's thin hand as the other three finished packing their few possessions in their duffel bags.

"It was my pleasure, Harry. If you ever need anything else from me, please don't hesitate to stop by."

The four waved at the man as they gathered together and Disapparated.

They reappeared in a designated Apparition point in Vienna, Austria nestled in the small wizarding section near the Hofburg Palace. The streets were closed in, sometimes only a shoulder's breadth apart, and the bricks in the road were missing in places. They had decided to travel through this way point due to its central location and because of an amazing Hungarian restaurant that caused even the most stoic of men to weep in culinary zeal. Usually it was Hermione who insisted they eat there, not that any real arm-twisting was required. They all sat in a back booth in the little restaurant, a candle on the table and light Hungarian music being performed by a floating fairy quartet in the center of the room.

"I think Ginny picked Austria just so we could hit this restaurant," Harry said through a mouthful of goulash thick with mushrooms and beef.

"Don't hear you complaining," Ron said and sipped from his glass of red wine.

Little else was said as they ate their fill. Harry found he didn't have much to say to them anymore. It wasn't that something between them was lost, it was just that they'd said everything already. They _knew_ everything already. The silence between them wasn't _silence_, but an unspoken acknowledgment full of camaraderie few married couples of fifty years ever achieved.

Ron looked over at the salt and Ginny automatically handed it to him. When they were all finished, Harry leaned back into his food coma and enjoyed the finish of his wine.

"So good," he groaned while patting his belly, and the rest nodded in agreement.

They left the wizarding section for the Muggle environs to find a cheap hostel to stay the night. In Vienna, like most major European cities, they could find classy hostels or cheap and scary hostels. Hermione and Ginny usually picked, because honestly Ron and Harry could care less. As long as there was a bed and the stains were minimal, they needs were met. But if the girls wanted a bath they would find a nicer place that provided such luxuries.

"So, which is it, Hermione? Do you want a soak tonight?" Ginny asked.

"Hmm, yes, I think so. A nice soak where I can finish my book sounds relaxing." She winked at Ginny, who laughed back. Subtlety had little hold between them.

Finding a room wasn't hard, especially of the nicer variety that advertised in every pamphlet and handout available at the tourist kiosks. After they walked in the room, Hermione retired to the bath and Ron changed his clothing before he left to find a hook-up. Harry and Ginny were left alone flipping through channels on the TV.

Killing evil creatures or killing time. It had become their life.

**END BIT 1**


	2. BIT 2

**BIT 2**

The wind never seemed to seek, let alone find, tranquility in the vast, fir filled valley that sat perpetually submerged in shadow. It blustered and beat upon the ancient house, once majestic, standing against a backdrop of craggy mountains lined with the silver streams of waterfalls. The years had eaten away at its true brilliance. Rich colors had faded and the fine roofing tiles were lined with cracks or missing all together, leaving gaps and holes in the surface. The house stood abandoned, having waited in the valley for hundreds of years and had finally given up hope.

The structure was grand, ancient in architecture and long forgotten skill. This was a building constructed to last the centuries, to extend beyond the meager lifespan of current cookie-cutter shacks planted in subdivisions, row upon row of identical clones. This house was unique, overflowing with character, class, and nobility, even overgrown with ivy and blackberry brambles. In its isolation it was shrouded in mystery. In the past people had seen things in the shadows and heard screams at night. Baden Manor and L'Ombre Valley, in which it resided, were touched, haunted, and everybody knew it.

But in the last few years all had been quiet. Silent and still like a sepulcher, which invited visitors even less than haunted ground. The valley lay vacant, except for the manor, and the Austrian people seemed perfectly happy to forget that the place had even existed. It was a blank spot on every map.

There was something truly singular about old wizarding manors. Over centuries they could come alive, developing their own souls, molded and nourished by the spirits of those who had lived within. This manor was no different and the current man living within certainly left his own taint.

* * *

"Get out, you leech!" the ghost screamed at Severus. It was a daily ritual he could do without. She would berate him, scream at him, tell him to leave, compare his existence to that of the mold that so ruthlessly invaded the plaster: so like the portrait of Mrs. Black at 12 Grimmauld Place. At least Mrs. Black had been locked in one place. _It's almost like marriage_, he thought uncharitably. He rarely spoke aloud, his cracked voice too unwelcome, and with nobody to talk to but an insane house he felt speaking could only reflect badly on his own level of sanity.

Severus Snape sat stiffly in his hunter green chair. It was made of fine woods, like everything else in the house, but Severus had long ago ceased to be impressed. The fire didn't burn, she wouldn't let it, and the mirrors had turned traitor. The Floo hadn't worked in years. He was alone like he had never felt before. Abandoned.

What had happened to the Order? Was it because of his… condition that they had stopped sending him owls? Or was it all due to this damned house? Did she stop the letters? The visitors? His orders? Was he just to sit here and decompose like fall leaves under the pretense of looking out for the third rise of the Dark Lord?

Or perhaps that little idiot had finally done his job. But surely _somebody_ would have informed him.

Staring blankly into the cold fireplace, filled with layers of gray ash that marked the voyage of time as surely as the rings of an ancient oak, he wondered if anyone remembered him, if they realized he was waiting in this vacant house, slowly wasting in decay.

Normally he wasn't the kind of man to roll over and give up. During his first years of seclusion he'd been vigilant and productive. The cellars had overflowed with draughts and tinctures, poisons and cures. He had refined the Wolfsbane Potion and even created additional recipes to help other Dark Creatures control their visceral impulses—which had been a very lucky thing indeed.

But that was a mark of time long ago and presently he only resided with contrary illusions. That damned house… damned ghost. She had more spite and will than he'd ever imagined.

"If you are going to do nothing, do it elsewhere. Get out!" The translucent woman fluttered around him, through him, trying her best to chill him to the bone, but his stagnant blood already sat cold.

"Get away," he croaked the emotionless words. Lately he'd wished some Auror or hunter or one of his vast enemies would just walk through that door and strike him dead. Drive a stake through his heart or send a fountain of green curse light down upon him. He would raise his white flag and relent, relinquish this futile life.

He would offer no struggle.

A high-pitched giggle echoed through the halls. "He speaks! There is life in him yet. First a laugh and now words! Must be a good year, yes leech?"

He immediately regretted opening his mouth and slumped lower into his chair, staring at the ceiling, watching the mildew spread across the tiles.

* * *

A loud clamor, a racket like nothing he'd heard before, coursed through the walls of the manor. He was sitting in his usual chair—not in a sleep that his body didn't need, just a form a status where he let time slip by—when the noise began. With depressing effort, he lifted himself up from his chair and started shuffling towards the drawing room door.

"What is it, woman? What is that racket?" His wheeze sounded full of a desperation he didn't feel. It was all an act, a reason to suffer.

"Something… something I have not experienced in years!" The ghostly visage of the house appeared before Severus and pulsed with emotion.

"What? Are we under attack?"

"No." He flinched at the smile that spread across her face. "We have a visitor." She fluttered and then dissipated, leaving behind faint wisps of ghost-stuff.

Severus' unmoving heart almost felt like it thumped. Could it be? Had they finally come to tell him it was all over and he could slip away into oblivion?

He looked down at his legs, willing them to move again and began to lurch across the chilly floor, his eyes avoiding the mirror, which snickered as he passed, and he left the room he hadn't emerged from in months.

The ghost hovered around the main door, darting back and forth inches over the rat chewed rug, encrusted with grime and droppings. Though the klaxon slowly faded, the ghost continued her pacing. When the alarm finally drew completely silent, a knock banged on the door, echoing through the empty hall.

_Boom. Boom._

With a creak, the door drew open and the ghost came forward, arms wide with welcome. Severus flinched at the brilliant light of day as it streamed into the dark interior.

"Come in! Come in! You are most welcome. Please, do come in."

He stood hidden in the shadows of the entry way's corner and did not come forward to greet the individual standing at the door.

"Is this the residence of Mr. Severus Snape?" The words were spoken by the voice of a god. Athena herself could not have looked so full of splendor or power, dressed in formed leather armors, a crown of laurels on her brow. Folded wings with feathers the color of charcoal rose over the tall woman's head and slightly pointed ears peaked out from under the short, chestnut hair. Her skin glowed.

Severus had never seen such a fine veela before; her feathered wings alone were a genetically recessive trait, utterly unique and fantastic. She must be a princess of her kind.

Severus squashed his desire to rush forward and extol his prowess in potion making and his skills between the bed sheets.

The veela looked down at the ghost with an oddly curious expression akin to a child learning that a butterfly had once been a lowly caterpillar. Her head was tilted to the side and it would have made her look young and innocent if not for the blade strapped to her back resting between her wings.

"What would you want with that filth?" asked the ghost in a curious, yet polite voice.

"We have business," the visitor said in a musical tone.

"I am here," croaked Severus as he took a single step out from the shadows. He smelled the blood flowing through her veins and it stirred his desire. It had been so long since he'd felt any urge for anything, long since giving up his thirst for blood and finding solace in his own decomposition. "What is it you want of me, veela?"

The winged woman looked over at Severus, amusement taking root in her expression. Severus had no taste for it. "Speak and be done with your business," he spat at her.

"My, my. It seems they will accept help for any quarter these days. Vampire. A bloodless vampire at that."

"I wasn't always like this, woman. What is your business?" His throat felt dry. He wasn't sure how many words were left in him.

"I seek a fellow Sentinel. Are you still of that persuasion or have you given up your duty as well as your life?" The words held no judgment, but were stated as if she spoke a fact everybody knew as truth. The sky was blue, the sun rose in the east and Severus Snape's life had no worth.

"They abandoned _me_," Severus said, and he retreated into a sulk. "I have been waiting, but they have abandoned me."

"Oh… Dear, sweet Severus. Nobody's abandoned you." The veela moved towards Severus with such smooth steps she seemed to glide. "You've fallen to disuse, like this old manor. But the Watch is still ever vigilant. We all look for signs of the Dark Lord. We still fulfill our duty. Have you given up yours?"

The woman stood directly before Severus. The beat, _lub dub, lub dub_, the metallic tint in the air, the sense of youth and power: her blood tickled his senses. She opened her arms, welcoming, and in one step, two, he was embraced by charcoal wings and strong, warrior arms. He buried his face into the crook of her neck and she tilted her head, offering an expanse of perfect skin to smell and taste and he could do nothing as the siren song of the blood called to him.

Without direction from any conscious part of himself his incisors distended, growing longer and sharper and his saliva flowed, painting his parched throat with wicked promises.

"I can't," he said with a struggle, stopping himself from the bite with priestly fidelity. "I don't want it." His tooth dug into his lip as he spoke, but no blood flowed from the puncture.

"Yes. You do. And you need it. Drink from me and sustain yourself. The cause needs you. The Watch needs you." She placed the palm of her hand on the back of his head, petting the skeletal gray hair and pushed his face into her flawless skin.

With little resolve left, he opened his jaws wide. He bit and drank deeply.

* * *

Harry and his troupe of burned-out friends had settled in a small town outside of Eisenstadt. This time they were holed up in a genuine house instead of a barn, and both Hermione and Ginny had laughed in delight at the clawfoot tub with actual running water, even if the hot water was often on the fritz. Lucky for them they were witches.

"So, when we meeting up with Gabriella Bethlen?" Ron asked, munching on a bag of crisps. He was sprawled out on a velvet blue duvet covering a queen size bed that he and Hermione were sharing. Harry sat on the other bed with Ginny, flipping through a local newspaper, reviewing his German.

As they traveled, they had each taken on several languages to learn, becoming the group translator for that language. They couldn't cover everything, but it did help interacting with the locals. Harry took up German, Greek and a smidge of Czech. Hermione, the overachiever that she was, took Japanese and Russian. Ginny studied French, Italian and Spanish, and Ron worked on Chinese--several variants of Chinese--Mandarin, Cantonese and some of those tiny little dialects that only three villages still spoke. None of them were completely fluent, but it worked.

"Tomorrow morning," Ginny informed everyone in the room. "She said there were some odd happenings up in a local valley that she wanted to check out. The place is supposed to be haunted or possessed by some vengeful spirit or something." She shrugged. They had heard it all before.

However, Harry perked up at the news. "Could it be Voldemort?" Harry asked, as excited as a convict receiving his death row pardon. Where he still found the energy to stir such excitement was a mystery.

"No idea," Ginny told him. "It's a bit hard to tell when all we know is that there's a haunting, Harry."

Harry flopped down on the bed, legs dangling over the side.

"I wish this was over," he said quietly.

Ginny lay down on her side next to him and patted his belly. "We all do, Harry. We all do."

* * *

"So pleased to meet you," Gabriella Bethlen greeted them. She stood tall and looked to be in her forties with short, stylish blond hair. Her English was impeccable. "I've heard so much about you from Zabini and Weasley." She held out her hand and shook with each of them. "Well, elder Weasley I should say." She smiled and Harry felt the impulse to smile back—which was something he hadn't experienced in a very long time.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Bethlen," Harry said.

"Oh, please do call me Gabriella. It is all my pleasure, Mr. Potter."

"Well, then, call me Harry. Being called Mr. Potter reminds me of my old Potions Professor."

They all had a laugh at that.

"So, how is the Order in England doing?" Hermione asked. Other than an owl every three months informing them of other potential Mentors of the Month and any hints on Voldemort-related activity, their communications with the rest of the world were pretty limited.

"Fairly well. Your father," she gestured to Ron and Ginny, "is an excellent leader for the organization since Kingsley had become Minister. They have fewer recruits now though, since Voldemort has been underground for the past decade." She shrugged.

"So, any news on suspicious activity?" Harry asked, his one track mind rarely departing its set course.

"Specifically Voldemort or Death Eater activity? Well, we can't really say. There has been some new activity up in L'Ombre Valley that has me curious. And the usual boggarts and banshees that every old household must deal with." Her voice was crisp as she told them of their potential work.

"Do you want us to help out with L'Ombre Valley?" Ginny asked. "Could be good experience for us to deal with your haunting."

"Well, first we aren't sure if it is a haunting. The area is strangely closed off and it's hard for magical people to enter—though I doubt you would have any troubles—and the Muggles won't, or can't, go near it. You are welcome to go out there if you wish. I was just out there but didn't see anything but that old house."

"Old house?" Ron asked.

"Yes. Baden Manor. An old wizarding manor left abandoned for at least a hundred and fifty years. I think some of the charms and enchantments on the place have started to fail. I really should go in there and see what I can do to either contain or dismantle them, but really it hasn't been a priority."

"We can look into it for you," Ron said. "Gives us something to do."

"Certainly. Here," she grabbed a sheet of paper and jotted down some numbers, "The Apparition coordinates. Just walk along the stream up the valley and you'll find the manor. Old protections disallow anyone to Apparate any closer and there aren't any roads going up there, so you can't drive."

"Apparition's fine. Thank you." Ron took the paper and stuffed it in his pocket.

"So, what do you know about Earth magic?" Gabriella asked.

The four looked at each other and Hermione chuckled. "Well, why don't you sit down? This could take a while."

* * *

Following his supper on pure veela blood, it took only minutes after her departure for his body to convulse in shock, thrashing and burning from the pure pleasure and power of it as it coursed through his veins. It had been so long, too long, that after a trace of it absorbed into his system, he leaned over and hurled onto the entrance floor, spewing red, viscous fluid everywhere.

"Filthy beast!" came the expected admonishment.

"Go away, annoying gnat. Leave me be." He retched again, his body trying furtively to contain the nourishment but slowly losing its desperate hold.

When his system recovered from the rich meal, he labored to his feet and stared at the puddle on the floor. It spread across the stones and seeped into the mortar filling the cracks, leaving a sepia stain. Temptation taunted him to lean over and lap at it, not waste one tiny drop and his traitorous body had him on his knees before he stopped himself.

With internal force he stood once again and walked to the drawing room, his steps noticeably more sturdy and confident. He glanced at the mirror, pausing at the sight: his posture was more upright, his hair fuller and his skin less of a relief map telling of his years at the manor. The mirror was strangely silent.

He walked up to a chest of drawers and tugged the top drawer open. A small box was stuffed in the corner and he removed it. With reverence he lifted the lid and looked upon his wand swaddled in rose colored silk.

It hadn't been touched in years. After that night when he had confronted and became cursed by the vampire, his magic turned traitorous. It took him months to relearn how to work even simple spells and over twelve to regain full control. But after those months had turned into years with no news from the Order or other Sentinels, he had given up magic and need and want and sat in his chair, surfacing from his stupor in rare moments when the weight of boredom pushed him to thoughts of daylight walks.

Now he lifted his wand out of the box and it tingled in his hand, eager like a newly hatched phoenix, and an unwanted smile twitched at Severus' lips.

He missed being a wizard.

His return to the entry rewarded him with a view of the ghost frantic, practically vibrating over the mess he had left, whimpering in despair.

"Can't you clean it up?" Severus asked with a sneer. "Whisk it away like you do the fires and candle flames?" Awed, Severus felt joy as he watched the ghostly creature fraught with anxiety. He actually felt pleasure and experimentally he opened his clenched jaw and let out a full bodied laugh.

"What? What are you laughing at? Do something! Squatter. Useless leech. Clean it up!" she screamed, arms lifted high as she raged.

"I could clean this up," he said, his words steady. "However, what incentive do I have to perform such a magnanimous favor?"

"What is it you want, foul beast? Blackmailing me. Holding me hostage! User! User!" The opaque lady dashed through the room, floating up to the ceiling and back down again, finally touching on the ground before Severus.

They stood there in stoic guard. Neither needing to blink, both mad in their own ways. A clock ticked in the background, the only monument to the passage of time in the old house.

Finally, Severus heard the fireplace flare up in his drawing room, flames crackling with cheery warmth.

With an offhanded flick of his wand, Severus cast "_Scourgify_, " and the mess disappeared. With a dramatic turn on his heel, though far less dramatic than when he'd been adorned in professor's robes, he returned to the one room he had claimed as his own and pulled his chair close to the fire.

It was warm and welcoming and he dozed off with an ease to his careworn features, wand clutched in his right hand.

* * *

With a soft 'pop' the quartet appeared in a small clearing surrounded by looming trees, Within the forest evergreens and deciduous trees cut the sun's touch off from reaching the ground. They each wore their Battle Bags over one shoulder and held their wands at the ready. There was a small river to one side that rushed through the underbrush and high cliff walls rose high on either side of the V-shaped valley.

It wasn't terribly narrow, but the cliffs shadowed the gorge in perpetual twilight. The air hung still in the undergrowth and other than the brook there wasn't any sound except the wind rustling the tops of the trees. It almost seemed like a window into a lost memory, faded pigment with age.

The group turned down the valley and started walking, slowly but steadily. The growth was fairly dense near the river's rocky edge, so they kept to the gloom within the trees. It was rough going, especially for Ginny who seemed to have her thoughts in some far distant tea house sipping oolong.

"Ooof! Ginny, watch where you're going," Ron said, annoyed. It had been the fifth time she had stumbled and fallen into her brother.

"Sorry," she murmured, almost to herself.

"What is with you?" he asked. "Earth to Ginny. Where are you? On the moon?"

"I'm here," she said softly. "I'm just right here."

"Ron, let her be," Hermione said. "I think she's tranced. Just make sure she doesn't break a leg." Ron snorted but walked more slowly, almost cautiously, with his arm stretched towards Ginny in case she had yet another stumble.

They hiked for perhaps a half an hour through the silent forest when the valley walls closed in and a gap could be seen between them.

"Seems like quite a defensible position," Harry said. Maybe Voldemort was here. Some obscure old wizarding house hidden in the mountains with only one way to get in. But it was a box canyon, or so Harry assumed, and that usually wasn't the best stronghold location. There must be another exit other than climbing the sheer cliffs. He wouldn't be surprised if a tunnel had been carved out of the granite.

Harry went first through the gap, climbing up the slope of loose rocks to reach the pass, and caught his breath at the sight. Below him was a bowl, fairly open but dotted with dead trees. Hardly anything remained green as if a blight had flashed through the forest and poisoned the earth, where no antidote or cure could reach it.

Amidst the dead trunks was a manor, huge and menacing, falling to disrepair. Perhaps it wasn't as grand as Malfoy Manor was reputed to be, but it certainly had its own merit. It rose three stories off the ground, with gabled windows and two wings. The roof looked sunken in places and some of the expansive windows were broken. A large wrought iron fence surrounded the main grounds guarded by a gate hanging off its hinges.

A raven cawed in the distance. It was the first bird he noticed since they'd arrived in the valley.

The other three scrambled up the embankment and caught their own breaths at the vision below.

"Wow… this land looks cursed," Ron said. "I heard about these types of things where a family line can be cursed and the holdings take on that curse as well. Never seen it before though, not like this."

"Everything is dead," Hermione said in awe. "It's hardly believable."

Harry looked on and felt an odd anticipation in his gut. This could be it. This could be their final gambit, their last battle.

"So… do we want to go in now? Are we prepared if Voldemort's there?"

Harry, Hermione and Ron circled up and began pulling up plans, ideas they'd meticulously mapped out years ago in the days when the end seemed plausible. With their battle bags slung over their shoulders they had all of their usual equipment. Though the house was big, and Hermione did suggest they wait for back-up, Ron argued that the four of them were the most prepared for the job.

"Wait," Harry said. "Where's Ginny?"

Three heads popped up from the huddle and scanned around for her; a soft tumble of stones caught their attention. They looked over the gap's edge and saw Ginny making her way down towards Baden Manor.

"What the hell? Ginny, get back here!" Ron screeched.

She didn't turn, didn't slow, just continued on down the slope and the others were forced to plan on the move as they caught up to her.

"Harry, I think you and Ginny should take the back and Hermione and I will enter the front."

"Shouldn't I take the front since I'm supposed to be his arch nemesis or something, and don't arch nemeses confront the villains directly? I mean, should I sneak in the rear entrance and _Avada_ him in the back when he's not looking?" Harry puffed as he jogged down the slope.

"Harry, whatever gets the job done," Hermione said. "Remember: chair leg. I don't care if I go in the back or front, but yes… there is something here. Something dark and powerful and even if it isn't Voldemort, I think it might be a challenge." A feral, mad gleam flashed in her eyes and Harry grasped exactly how she was feeling.

Ginny, doggedly leading the four the entire way, rushed down the precarious hillside. Harry had slipped a few times wearing against the seat of his jeans. There was no cover, making stealth pointless, so he hoped their speed would help catch whoever resided in this house unaware.

The group cast various spells to reveal any curses or traps and Hermione even used her new spell that detected imbedded metallic items after they had to deal with land mines in Cambodia. They could never be too cautious.

Even as they carried out their protective spells, Harry acknowledged that they were moving too fast. He knew this wasn't a Jarvey or Kobold they were going up against, this was something…bigger, for lack of a better word. However, the four soon found themselves outside of the open gate with nothing so much as a rusty wire that they could scratch themselves on. No active spells threatened them at all.

"Didn't Gabriella say this place's protections were breaking down?" Hermione asked.

Harry nodded. She had said that, but it was all too recent. The spells couldn't have degraded so quickly. But he wasn't about to let this curiosity stop him. "Shall we?" Harry asked, feeling as anxious as the others.

"I think we will be fine," Ginny said, the first thing out of her lips during their entire scramble down the hill. Come to think of it, Harry hadn't seen her really working any magic to protect herself at all.

"You certain?" Hermione asked, lowering her wand ever so slightly when Ginny nodded. "Fine, let's go in."

"What?!" Ron and Harry both gasped at the sheer recklessness of the women. "Have you been bitten by the Tsura Midge, Hermione? You're just going to walk right in there without knowing what you're walking into?"

She glanced curiously at Ginny. "I trust Ginny and I trust her 'vision.' So I say let's go and see what's inside."

The logical part of his brain screamed at Harry to 'Stop This Right Now.' They couldn't rush into this; they had to assure their safety first. The more cajoling part of his brain, the part that said 'Go For It,' knew that Harry wanted to rush in there with Hermione and Ginny. Soon, it overpowered logic with a sharp, pokey stick.

"Fine, but let's go slowly."

Ginny and Hermione nodded and walked through the gate.

As they walked through they heard a soft creaking sound and the men turned sharply around to see the gate slowly swinging on its hinge, as if pushed by some nonexistent wind. The women continued walking up the cobbled parkway, passing dried up husks of moss and spiny shrubs growing up between the stones. Larger roots from trees predating the area blight displaced cobbles along the walkway.

It looked like nobody had lived here since the latter part of the previous century. Abandoned. Empty. Extinct like the way of life it once symbolized.

By the time Harry began walking again, Ginny and Hermione had already arrived at the massive double doors. Carvings covered the outer edges of the door, some sort of monument to the four elements depicted in a blending of clouds, ivy, watery ripples and flickering flames. A huge brass knocker hung at the center of one door in the shape of a lion's head.

They studied the door and then studied each other. Did they go in? Did they knock, or perhaps wait? Everyone turned to Ginny, who motioned for Harry.

"You knock," she told him.

"Why me?"

"You're the hero here; we're just your sidekicks."

"Who you calling a sidekick?" Ron protested, but Hermione quickly shushed him.

"Fine," Harry said, more gruffly than he intended. Sometimes Ginny's seer abilities were too mysterious. He liked things a little more tangible than unexplained direction and veiled smiles. With a shaking hand, he walked forward, reached out and pounded the knocker.

The lion roared and the sound echoed through the valley. It didn't sound angry or even much like a warning. Though it was hard to explain why, Harry thought it sounded welcoming and he smiled as the lion licked at his finger.

Slowly, the door blossomed to life; the flames rising high in the bottom left corner, the clouds flowing across the upper right. The vines spread over another corner and the waves slowly started undulating over the wood. A fine, faintly blue glow shimmered over the surface of the door, spreading across the entire house and the door eased open with a sturdy click.

Not one of them noticed the leaf buds developing on the ancient, dead trees surrounding Baden Manor, or the gentle push of grass up through the hard packed earth as they took their first steps in.

**END BIT 2**


	3. BIT 3

AN - sorry, no update until next week. Hope you enjoy!

**BIT 3 **

A violent, raucous noise echoed through the manor, ripping Severus from a somewhat peaceful nap. He had no idea how long this rare moment of unconsciousness lasted, but as he sprung from the chair he noticed the absence of his more persistent aches and he stood yet taller than he had before he'd sat for his slumber. A very droll voice in his head chided him on his recovery, saying he would have to starve himself for even more years to finally slip into oblivion, but the battle ready portion of his psyche, a much larger portion than the depressed one, was busy thinking of other things. Like what the hell that noise was.

Ah yes, the door bell.

"He is here! He is here!" the ghost cheered joyously.

She either screamed or cheered or guffawed. She did nothing with grace, nothing with subtlety and nothing below 100 decibels.

He strode through the drawing room and into the entry hall where the ghost flittered before the door, her aura shifting from her usual pearl to a brilliant light gold. "Who is here? Tell me, ghost," Severus demanded.

"The Heir! The Heir of the Bloodline. The true Master of Baden Manor. My true Master." Silver gilded teardrops trickled down her cheeks as the over-excited entity writhed in servile glee.

"Damned house-elf poser," Severus muttered under his breath. He had opened his mouth, ready to berate the woman further when the great doors clicked. With no warning to prepare, he was caught, standing there unguarded as the great doors swung open.

And in walked Harry Potter.

* * *

"Gah!" Harry yelped. He entered this abandoned, magical mansion, sitting in the middle of nowhere Austria and whom should he see but a man, just as decrepit as the house itself, who eerily resembled Professor Severus Snape.

But it couldn't be Snape. This man looked _old_, as old as Dumbledore had been when he was killed by this individual's doppelganger. Even though Harry knew Dumbledore's death was planned by the two men since Dumbledore had learned of his terminal condition, Harry's breath grew shallow and he'd struggled against an instinctive response to lash out at this elderly figure.

Maybe it was one of Snape's relatives, an Austrian Prince.

Harry had little time to muse over this man's identity, for then the frail individual pulled himself taller, straightening his crooked back, and plastered a most familiar sneer in place. Dread threatened to buckle Harry's knees and with a disgusted tone the Snape look-alike asked, "Potter, what are _you_ doing here?" at the same time as a ghost came to his notice and wrapped its shimmering arms around him and … actually touched him. Harry could feel the embrace, cold and uncomfortable, but tangible like no other ghost he had felt before.

Being so distracted by these two odd and unexpected turn of events, Harry didn't immediately register the most profound change that came upon the house. The others, however, noticed and watched as the metamorphosis shimmered around them, the rejuvenation pulsing like the surge of the ocean.

The first wave flushed away the dust and the floors and surfaces shimmered with cleanliness. Next, the rundown and broken accoutrements of the house mended itself, as if a time turner had been spun and the years flowed backwards, eating away both use and neglect. The banisters mended, the tapestries' brilliant colors shined, the moldy, musty scent dissipated all together. Ron and Hermione stood motionless, mouths hanging ajar at the progress of the transformation. However, Ginny just watched on unfazed, a casually curious smile on her lips.

"You have returned to me. You have come home! Master, I am so happy." The ghostly apparition kept hold of Harry, raining his cheeks with kisses. "I am complete once more… No longer alone." Silvery tears trailed down her nose and cheeks, disappearing as they dropped off her face.

"What?" The word reverberated in stereo as Harry asked in wonder and Snape asked in disgust. The two men glared at each other through the iridescent woman.

"Snape?" Harry asked, a hard edge to his voice.

"Potter. What is it you are doing here?"

"What the hell happened to you?"

"I'm so happy you have returned!"

"What the hell?"

"Ginny, did you know this would happen?"

"Of course."

"Get out."

"He stays. You get out! Filthy leech, you do not deserve to be in Master's presence."

"You don't even know who this whelp is?"

"Why are you here, Snape?"

"Okay. Okay! Everyone. Let's take a moment, please," Ginny said loudly over the angry voices and frantic words.

"Do you think he's the Dark creature we're here to destroy?"

"He looks like shit."

"_Get out_!"

"Shut the fuck up!" Ginny yelled, finally capturing everyone's attention.

With a few steps she entered farther into the entryway and stopped next to Harry. She smiled at Snape and said, "Hello, Professor."

"Is it really you?" Harry grudgingly asked, almost disappointed that somebody had come along and cursed the nasty, old, duplicitous man before he'd had his chance. He appeared incredibly frail and after a terse examination of him, all of the rage and frustration Harry had harbored for him just evaporated away, desiccated like seaweed on a sunny beach.

"For the last time, what are you doing here, Mr. Potter? I see you still travel nowhere without your fan club." His voice cracked.

Instinct drove Harry to react to the well-known taunt, but then he realized he no longer valued Snape's opinion.

So he decided to ignore the question and ask again what really interested him. "What happened to you? You look a hundred years old."

"I have need for neither your sympathy, nor your concern. Now leave." Snape lifted up his arm and thrust his finger towards the exit. His tattered shirtsleeve flapped impotently.

"I wouldn't really call it sympathy or concern," Harry mumbled.

"He will not leave. He belongs here!" The ghost rallied beside Harry.

"Who are you?" Harry asked her, not unkindly, hoping to have at least one of his questions answered.

"Oh my! Master, you do not know me? I have many names. My last master, the last resident here of the blood, called me Josephine."

"Are you like a house-elf?" Ron asked from behind Harry.

Snape snorted and the ghost's opalescent jaw dropped, appalled.

"House-elf?!" The windows rattled in the foyer. "Do I look like an elf?" The wooden paneling on the wall creaked and the stone shifted below their feet. Harry widened his stance for balance. "I am no common servant. I am a house-spirit! Bound to the Manor. Bound to the bloodline."

"What bloodline would that be?" asked Hermione.

"And why do you call _me_ Master?" asked Harry.

"Why, the bloodline of Godric Gryffindor, of course. And you, my Master, are the last of that bloodline, finally returned to me. I have waited all these years for you!" All of the candles burst into brilliant light within the hall and the sound of horns echoed beyond the walls, making Harry imagine that just in the next room played a sixteen piece marching band. "I am once again whole." Again the visual aspect of the Manor glowed brighter as she lunged to capture Harry in her arms, who admirably withstood the gentle mauling.

"Figures," muttered Snape. "You would be Gryffindor's heir and this hell I'd been sentenced to would be bound to you in some way. Why can I never rid myself of the bloody Potters and their over-gracious luck?"

"Professor…" Hermione began.

"Do I look like your professor, Miss Granger? I think not. Kindly let me be." Severus turned around and withdrew to the drawing room, banging the doors closed behind him.

* * *

His life was cursed with bad decisions and evil fate. Here he was, stuck in an insane house that was magically tied to the bloodline of the foul little brat who had everything handed to him on a silver platter, just like his father, while Severus was weakened, cursed with vampirism, looking and feeling old and frail. As a young man in a pique of self-obsession and power mongering he'd joined with an insane half-blood who wanted to rid the world of his kind. He had a duty he couldn't abandon as a Sentinel and seemed to be the newest charity case for a nosy veela. His quiet existence—well, quiet when the house wasn't screaming at him--was now shattered by four Gryffindors and he had nowhere else to go.

It had been hours since the four showed up and he'd heard nothing from any of them or the noisy house. Maybe they would just forget about him and let time eat him alive.

A soft knock on the door told him otherwise.

"Professor Snape?" came the muffled call. "May I come in?"

The door slowly opened and Potter darkened his doorway, a covered serving tray in one hand, his other hand resting on the door handle.

"I am no longer your professor," he said to the fire.

"Right. So I suppose I'll just come in then." Potter stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. "We've just had lunch and I brought you some." He placed the tray on the small table next to Severus' chair that had long ago been buried beneath books of all kinds before reading had became too much a chore.

"I don't want your food, Potter." Severus spat the words at him, causing Harry to take a step back in alarm.

"Fine, don't eat it then. Listen, it's a peace offering; if you don't want peace then just bully up and hear me out. What are you doing here?" Snape snorted. "What's happened to you?" He sneered. "Have you heard anything about Voldemort? Kingsley insisted you were on our side, even when you struck down Dumbledore…"

"Don't speak his name!" Severus screamed. "Don't speak of him around me." Bloody spittle flew off of Severus' lips. He leaned over and buried his head in his gnarled hands, a stiff sob wracking his body. Potter stood by, shifting from foot to foot and finally words slipped past Severus' guard. "Don't speak the name of the angels in the company of a devil," he said softly.

Silently, Potter remained, but when it became evident Severus would speak no more, he left the room.

* * *

The other three waited for Harry in the kitchen, the remains of the meal made by Josephine spread across the table. Ginny was busying herself with cleaning her fingernails with a knife, but Ron and Hermione gave Harry their full attention.

"Ginny, did you know Snape was here?" he asked her as he pulled out a chair to sit in.

"Yep." She examined one finger.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Ron asked, more than a little miffed.

"Because I knew you wouldn't have come," she calmly explained to him and then put the knife on the table. "Or, there was the chance you would, but with preconceived notions that might have mucked everything up."

"Mucked what up?" This time it was Hermione who asked. Usually Hermione didn't bother finding out the details anymore. She was more focused on the big picture nowadays and didn't bother ferreting out every tiny bit of information she could. However, the whole situation seemed to have sparked something within her that had long gone dormant. "Tell us what you can."

"I have. I knew Snape was here. I know we were supposed to come here, but the initial meeting was very important."

"Well, guess we mucked it up then," Ron said dryly.

"Nope," Ginny replied.

"Seems mucked up to me," said Harry. He turned his back on the table, facing the direction of Snape's domain. "He just broke down when I brought up the fact that Kingsley stood up for him even after he'd killed Dumbledore."

"Well, can you blame him, Harry?" Hermione said as she sipped from a cup of tea. "He was forced to kill Dumbledore. From what Arthur was saying Dumbledore was a true mentor to Snape and he was forced to kill him. That's going to amount to a ton of emotional baggage on top of everything else that Snape's carrying. Plus, he looks a right mess."

"Are you finished with lunch, Master?" Josephine floated up through the floor.

Harry jumped; his deadly wand pointed right at the woman. Slowly, he slipped the wand back into its holster. "Please, not Master… just, call me Harry."

"If you wish, Harry. Can I get anything else for you?" She pulsed, going from bright to a less blinding shade with the beat of Harry's heart.

Her intense adoration made Harry itchy. "Well… no, we're okay. But can you answer some questions?"

"Oh certainly Master… Harry. I will answer anything you ask." She flittered in excitement.

Her words made Harry a little nervous. "Well, first. Why is Snape here?"

Her color muddied to a reddish brown hue; her face contorted in disgust. "That leech, that filthy squatter. He just showed up one day while I was sleeping. Moved in. Took up residence. When I awoke he had already claimed my bones as his home. I was infested! I could not be rid of him! The horror!" The woman fell in a gentle faint, floating to the floor. Harry knelt down next to her in alarm, but saw that she wasn't in true distress… or at least he didn't think so.

"Do you know what's happened to him? Why does he look like that? Was he cursed?" Harry couldn't control the flood of questions, each one as necessary and eager as the last.

Josephine rose again with a flourish, a giggle jiggling her endowments. "Cursed?! You could say that. Was he not always this way?" she asked, a soft expression of worship on her face as she spoke to Harry.

"No," Ron said. "He's only about 40 years old, I guess. Black hair, blacker eyes, very stiff posture like he has a rod rammed up his …"

"Ron!" Hermione interjected. Ginny giggled.

"Has he always been a vampire?" Josephine asked.

"What?" the four exploded in unison. "Vampire?"

"Yes, that man is most foul. Foul, filthy bloodsucker. Leech. Vermin!" The ghostly woman started to moan.

* * *

After the trickle of his bloody tears had ceased flowing so freely, he wiped them on his stained sleeves and looked up. Potter had gone. He had broken down in front of the ungracious brat. One thing he hated about being a vampire--well, one of the many things--was how much of an emotional imbecile he had become. Unless he starved himself into a husk of a man, he felt everything so strongly, every emotion amplified. Who knew vampires were such passionate creatures? Now he wept in front of another man just because he spoke of a murder: his murder of the most important person in his life.

That certainly undercut the vicious image he had cultivated through all those years.

Suddenly he felt old again, and not just in spirit. The unexpected feeding from the veela--he hadn't even caught her name--had given him new energy and obviously recharged his emotions. Unfortunately, after he had thrown up a good portion and cried out the last, he noticed his body lagged once more. Not like it had, but still, he felt another ten years pressed heavy upon his heart.

He missed the vibrant and energetic way he had once felt. Full of power and control. Now the only thing he seemed to feel was overwhelming sorrow, overwhelming depression and overwhelming apathy. It was a marvel he could feel all of those at once.

At least the fire burned warmly.

And when the hell had he started looking on the bright side? If this uncharacteristic part of him continued to voice its opinion he might have to contemplate more active suicide schemes than slow starvation.

There was another timid knock on the door and Severus groaned. He did not want to deal with Potter, his new house groupie or the other three pillars of all that was good and pure, so he slid lower into his chair and lost himself in the flames.

"Snape?"

He looked up at the intruder. It surprised him that it wasn't that infuriating Potter. It was his little girlfriend, the Weasley girl. Ah, the poster children for moral righteousness.

"Do not come in. You are not welcome."

She came in anyway.

Maybe it was his slouched posture, or perhaps his cracking voice. Severus bet Potter had told her about him crying. It couldn't be that this girl actually had nerve.

"I think that perhaps we should have a discussion at some point. It would greatly benefit our joint cause."

She sounded so reasonable, almost intelligent, but he _would not listen to her_! He would not listen to reason. Something angry and firm rooted itself within him; he didn't want to be a mature adult about any it and he couldn't explain why.

"If you believe we have anything so grand in common as _a cause_," he produced his best sneer, "then you are sorely mistaken Miss Weasley. Or perhaps it is Mrs. Potter by now."

To his surprise the red-headed wench burst out laughing.

"Me and Harry? Oh, that's golden. Sure, he claims to be bi, but we all know he's as queer as a two headed knut." She continued to laugh, a high twittering laugh that might have sounded pleasant to someone other than himself.

Well, that came as a shock. Perhaps not the poster child after all. The Boy Hero had a black stain on his soul after all. Filthy little faggot. Severus remembered that taunt well from his own childhood. How amusing that Potter would share something so innate with his most hated Professor from school.

It almost caused amusement to stir within his cold, dead heart, but bitterly he squelched it down.

"Anyway," Weasley continued, catching her breath, "we need to talk. We've been traveling around all over the world looking for your old boss, and his shiny, scaly head hasn't surfaced." Severus' jaw dropped. When had she become so flippant? "We've trained with a different teacher each month for the last ten years and we've progressed to the point where we could be teaching these supposed experts a thing or two. You're a Dark Arts expert, and apparently a vampire," she tilted her head and looked at him curiously, "who hasn't had a regular meal in quite some time. Why don't you teach us what you know, work with us in taking down Voldemort and we'll make sure you have regular meals and intellectual conversation with someone other than a house manifestation. Deal?"

She looked at him expectantly.

Severus said nothing. He didn't know what to say. She just came in here and offered him what he most needed, physical and mental nourishment, and asked for something, in principle, that he would've given them anyway. He opened his mouth to tell her to go away and leave him alone--a line that he had gotten quite good at delivering--when she beat him to it.

"Good. I look forward to working with you, Professor. I'll just leave you to your fire then and see you next evening."

And just like that she left the room, closing the door behind her, leaving him flabbergasted, shocked and, oddly, more than a little expectant.

**END BIT 3**


	4. BIT 4

**BIT 4 **

"You did what?" Harry asked.

"I requested training from Professor Snape and he agreed. So tomorrow evening we should talk to him about our experiences and see where he can fill in our gaps of know-how." They were all gathered in the library and Ginny was sitting in a large burgundy colored leather chair as if leading court. Resting on her lap was a huge tome; its flaking cover lending the impression that it had seen several centuries in this library.

Ron loomed over her, fists pressed to his sides. "You went to talk to a vampire alone?" he asked, his ears as red as cinnamon wheezy-pops as he scolded his younger sister. "What were you thinking? He could have attacked you. Merlin knows he doesn't look like he's fed in ages."

"Oh, and I agreed we would provide food for him," she said offhandedly, a slight flip to her hand as she turned a brittle page.

Even Hermione sputtered her coffee when she heard this. "What are you suggesting, Ginny, that we find him willing victims or that _we_ be his willing victims? Or are you even thinking that willing be a prerequisite?" she asked in accusation, her romance novel momentarily forgotten in her lap.

"Oh calm down, everything will be alright. You know," Ginny began, looking each of them in the eyes, "that he hasn't fed in years. He's been starving himself… so it isn't like he goes out and mutilates the populace on a nightly basis or anything. We can trust him—as far as we could ever have trusted him."

"What does that mean?" Harry asked. He found himself confused and couldn't quite mesh the idea of a vampire Severus starving himself for years then just suddenly willing to teach them for blood.

"Well, we always could trust him, even if we didn't believe it as students."

"Yeah, I know. What's your point?"

"Just because he's a vampire doesn't mean that _he's_ any different than when he was our professor."

Harry pondered that but knew it wasn't true. Snape was different. The Snape he remembered would never be found sequestered away from the action, would never starve himself to death, and never, ever would he cry or show an emotion other than hatred and disdain to anyone other than a Slytherin. Was it the fact that he was a vampire that changed him or was it something more fundamental that made Snape seem more human?

* * *

The house, or ghost, or whatever she was, had showed them to their own rooms on the second floor. The room Harry was given was so grand and spacious, with plush carpeting and huge four poster bed, that he was certain the Dursleys' entire house could have fit into it. From pauper to the Heir of Gryffindor and Master of Baden Manor… not to mention the plethora of other titles he had sported through the years: Harry had come a long way.

It wasn't the titles or roles that he was proud of. Harry was experienced and knowledgeable. He was an expert in his field, a true Dark Arts hunter, an Auror in his own right. He recognized a threat and knew, by instinct, how to deal with it and come out on top. He could battle his enemies alone or organize strategies for a greater number. He spoke different languages. Personal pride swelled when he thought about how far he had come from Dudley's punching bag to where he was standing now.

Then he realized he was about to walk into a room with Severus Snape and be taught magics he still didn't know, even after ten years of ceaseless study. What if Snape did have new things to teach them? For the first time in years Harry felt excited about something other than hints and shadows of Voldemort.

They'd been at the Manor for a day now, having arrived in late afternoon and spent the good part of the previous evening and night in conference in the library. Now in the wee hours of the morning he lay in the huge bed which smelled freshly laundered, and melted into the sheets. For the longest time they'd only slept on the floor or some crappy mattresses that unraveled the alignment of his spine; his body forgot what it felt like to be pampered. Soon, he fell asleep.

Each of the quartet slept in late and by ten o'clock they had awoken and gathered in the arboretum for tea and croissants.

"Where does all this food come from?" Harry asked, munching on a chocolate filled croissant. The fluffy filling literally melted on his tongue.

"Josephine makes it," Hermione told him. "She's cleaned the house for us, warms our water for tea and baths, creates tasty yet nutritious meals and dotes on your every wish," Hermione finished by popping a grape into her mouth. "I've never heard of a house-spirit or anything like what Josephine is, though. Ron, Ginny, you know anything about this?"

"Yeah, you hear about it," Ron said after he swallowed his mouthful. "Really old families can have some items imbued with a slave sentience. Sometimes the thing, be it a house or a sword or even a comb, can go insane after too many years of disuse. It isn't a type of magic that's really used anymore and so these items can be really valuable. Far better than an invisibility cloak, don't you think?" He bit into another pastry, a huge smile threatening to overtake his entire face.

Personally, Harry thought it was pretty spectacular, but honestly didn't feel comfortable with the idea of having a 'slave sentience' bound to his beck and will. It reminded him too much of the house-elves and Harry was surprised Hermione wasn't more up in arms over the whole revelation. But the real shock was to learn that he was of Godric Gryffindor's bloodline. Why hadn't he been told? Had anybody known?

"So, I'm off to check this place out. Who wants to join me?" Ron asked enthusiastically after gulping down the last of his tea.

They all jumped to their feet to join him and began to wander through the manor. They passed through long hallways lined with wizarding portraits of people none of them knew or recognized, where statues and suits of armor stood guard at doorways.

"Do you think they're your relatives, Harry?" Ginny asked, staring at one very scruffy looking woman with a high collared dress and unruly black hair. She was pointedly ignoring them. Harry shrugged. He simply didn't know.

They found themselves in a large ballroom with hanging crystal chandeliers and inlaid wood floors. Intricate geometric designs decorated the edges of the floor laid out in dark and light woods. Patterned mosaics covered the far wall, holding a scene of some floating city, crafting the illusion that the viewer stood in that aquatic realm as dolphins and merpeople leapt from the water.

The kitchen was large enough to rival that at Hogwarts and the basement held an up-to-date laboratory as well as some other rooms that looked a little too similar to prison cells for their comfort.

"At least there aren't any torture devices hidden down here," Hermione told Harry when he looked dumbfounded at the iron gated rooms.

All of the rooms were tastefully furnished, if outdated, and everything was clean and fresh as if a militia of house staff worked night and day to keep it presentable. But really, it was just one person… or being… or … well the house kept itself presentable and that was too amazing to think about, especially for a Muggle-raised wizard.

However, the real moment of awe came when the four left the spacious house for the back gardens that held memories of death and decay, like a pestilence lingered on the valley. But as they passed through the double glass doors that led onto the back veranda, none of them could equate the once barren landscape with the verdant gardens before them.

Everything was green. Everything bloomed, no matter its season. The lilacs were blooming with the goldenrod and the aconite beautifully accented some crimson spring bulbs. The trees had all leafed out, the lawn was lush and deep green and birds sang a melody of joy and hope. He heard robins and blackbirds, tits and doves, all songs weaving together into a melody that erased his anxiety and brought a smile to his amazed face.

This had to be the fabled Shangri-La.

"Do you like it," came the eerily hollow voice. "I hope you like it."

Josephine stood at the door watching the four walk along the porch and sniff the honeysuckle and wisteria growing up the latticed sides of the veranda.

"I love it, Josephine. It is so beautiful," Harry said with a smile.

The opaque woman turned pink with a blush. "I am so happy you like it. Is there anything else I can do for you, Harry? Did you enjoy breakfast?"

Harry went to her and gripped her hands. "The food was wonderful, our rooms were wonderful, you are doing wonderfully. Thank you."

Josephine began to slowly lose her form, puddling to the floor, her hands slipping from Harry's grip. "Josephine, are you okay? What's wrong?" he cried.

But a closer examination of her showed she was smiling. "Nothing is wrong, sir. I am just so happy you are here." And she slowly dissipated like a morning cloud in the sun.

"She's… unique," Ron said delicately. "But, this place is bloody great; even with Snape skulking about. I think we should make it our headquarters. Relax here a bit between training and such."

"I've been thinking," Hermione began tentatively. "Do you think we _need_ more training? I mean, we've been at this for a decade and Snape's going to show us what he knows, so do you think we really need to keep at this? There are enough people out there looking for Voldemort, do you think us running around the world is really increasing our coverage that much?"

Ginny grinned at Hermione and threw her arms around her neck in a hug. "I've been hoping someone would realize that!" she said, and then gave her a wet kiss on her cheek.

Ron and Harry looked at each other. Ron took in a deep breath. "I'm ready for a break, mate," he said. "We all are."

Harry nodded at him, at all of them, but didn't say anything. If he wasn't training and searching the world for Voldemort, what would he do?

Finally, after a few moments of silence, Harry said, "Let's see what else this house has in it." He walked back into the house and was soon followed by the other three, sharing secret concerns with swift glances.

* * *

Evening arrived finding the quartet hovering outside of the drawing room doors. Harry's avoidance of their retirement conversation birthed tension between them for the rest of the day. Ron, Hermione and Ginny had continued to follow Harry--who had sunk into a mope--on the manor tour for another half-hour before they had begged out of the excursion for more relaxing pursuits, like reading and a game of chess. Alone, Harry continued wandering the halls, eventually accompanied by Josephine and her excited accounts of her history.

Baden Manor had stood in the valley for over 1,000 years, being constantly updated and added upon for the first 600 of those. Following those first years of prosperity, the house had been left dormant during the latter half, with but a few people, none of them of the bloodline, residing here out of necessity. Josephine hadn't liked them much.

Unfortunately--as the history was interesting because it was _his_ history--it hadn't taken long for Josephine's fawning to grate on Harry's already tattered nerves and he'd taken his leave of her before the desire to snap had grown too strong. His return to the library found his friends enjoying the evening in a lazy sod-like fashion and eventually he joined Ginny in a riveting game of chess, in which she sorely trounced him.

"Right, then," he said as he tipped over his king. "You're not using your seer ability are you?" he half accused her.

"I don't need any divination to beat _you_ at this game, Harry. Ron on the other hand…"

"Hey!" Ron yelled from the far side of the room where he was performing one-armed push-ups. His arm muscles bulged at each flex and Harry closed his eyes and looked away. "Is that how you won that _one_ time?" He laughed and they all joined in.

And before they knew it, the sun had set and evening had arrived. And it was time to face the monster on the ground floor.

Gathered together before the drawing room, Harry reached out and knocked on the door, a polite knock he hoped, and waited. And waited.

"Should I knock again, or just go in?" he asked his friends.

"Knock one more time and then go in," Hermione suggested.

So he did, and with still no answer he opened the door.

The chair was pulled close to the fire and in it sat the old man they once knew as a most formidable wizard. He sat motionless, no movement suggesting he'd heard their knocks or noticed their presence.

"Professor?" Harry said.

With still no reply, Harry walked over to the fire and looked down at Snape, afraid he might have actually died, though theoretically speaking, he was undead already. Snape's eyes were open, glazed but staring into the blazing fire. Harry could see no signs of life. His eyes gazed unblinkingly and no rise or fall of his chest gave any indication of breath or pulse. Harry reached out to touch the man's shoulder.

"So, you wish to trade blood for training, Mr. Potter. You would prostitute yourself to a vampire, your most hated Professor, the murderer of your mentor?"

Harry snatched his hand away, as if Snape had shifted into a deadly viper. Even as the pale lips spoke those cold words, Snape made no other movement. He looked like an animated mannequin, not quite real, just an empty puppet.

"Do you even have anything to offer us?" Harry asked with scorn.

"You might never know." Snape almost sounded amused, his attitude irking Harry even more than their non-greeting. Then those black eyes finally shifted and looked up at Harry, who saw something in them that ran his blood cold.

Harry looked over at Ginny, but her face was blank, offering no guidance on the intelligence of his actions. But she had brought them to this ancient house where Snape resided, suggested he might somehow be involved in their search for Voldemort. He also knew that Snape had been close to Voldemort, that Snape had made the Dark Arts his life from early adolescence and that he most certainly had something to offer them.

"Fine. Blood for training." Merlin. What had he just agreed to? "Though, if you lose control and attempt to either kill or turn me, I just want to remind you that you have three highly trained wizards watching you." Hermione offered him a weak smile and Ron nodded sternly, brow furrowed in concentration. Ginny's expression remained shuttered, though she did make a small show of brandishing her wand.

Snape rose from his chair, slowly and with deliberation. A dry, malicious chuckle scraped across the man's throat and Harry took an involuntary step back. "I shall enjoy your blood, Mr. Potter, Heir of Gryffindor."

The vampire took a step towards Harry, who withdrew yet another, his soft shoe making no noise against the floor. His hands shook and he wasn't sure why… it had to be that look Snape gave him. Malicious. Years of battling dangerous creatures and evil men and it was Snape who'd always terrified him. A demon from his past.

Another retreating step and Harry felt the mantle piece bump his back, his escape blocked off. But why was he trying to escape? He'd agreed to this! Taking a deep breath, he lifted his chin in defiance and said, "Right, shall we get this over with?"

Then the man smirked and said with a distinctive purr, "I would, Potter, if you'd quit running from me." Snape closed the distance with another stride and stood chest to chest with Harry, completely motionless. The scent of something rotting emanated from the man, but it was subtle. Up this close Harry could see his skin, paper thin like filo dough, and Harry thought that if he lifted a finger to Snape's face, he could peel the flesh away with the gentlest pressure.

Snape leaned forward and sniffed Harry, a long, drawn out gesture that was almost embarrassingly intimate and caused Harry's heart to thump within his chest.

"Hey!" Harry let loose a pathetic squeal as he felt a tongue trace the gentle curve of his neck and trail all the way up to his ear. He wriggled against the mantle. Then velvet lips closed on his earlobe; soft suckling broken only as Snape nipped almost playfully. Harry's body reacted in ways it hadn't bothered to in years and the back of his brain wished he hadn't had the others stay to watch.

"What are you doing?" he asked desperately.

In reply, Snape pushed forward even more, leaning his weight against Harry, trapping him against the mantle. Soft pants of air puffed along Harry's neck as Snape continued to imbibe his scent and then he bit down.

Sharp pain pierced his skin. "Agh!" Harry grabbed onto Snape's biceps, trying to pry the vampire off him, but Snape was stronger than he looked and Harry found himself helpless against the solid form. Warm streams of blood ran in thin rivulets down Harry's neck, only to be lapped up by that eager tongue until Snape's lips latched on, blocking the escape of the precious fluid. Finally, he began sucking, softly yet urgently, and the blood that Snape didn't guzzle down pooled south to Harry's groin. He realized then that he was helpless in an entirely different way.

If Harry had thought the experience would entirely consist of pain, he was deeply mistaken. His knees buckled as his head swam; moans escaped his slack lips as Snape continued to feed. Blackness crept in as the vampire drank, his tongue delving into the puncture wounds, dancing across the broken skin. A soft grunting murmured in Harry's ears as Snape's hands clenched his shoulders tighter, drinking deeply with the pulse of his heart, Harry's consciousness riding the gentle ebb and flow.

Inadvertently, Harry found himself rubbing his groin against Snape's thigh, grasping for friction, any friction, to cool the burning desire stoking within. "Oh God," escaped from his lips as the suction pulled blood and passion from his body. Clinging onto Snape, gasping and rutting and just _feeling, _Harry experienced lustlike he'd never had before. And he struggled fruitlessly against its rule.

Then, for one brief moment, everything went black, his mind turned over and tumbled in the rush of blood and pain and passion.

After indefinite time had passed the sucking slowed, then ceased and Snape casually licked the puncture wounds, practically nuzzling Harry's neck, and finally he pulled back from Harry's limp body. Harry looked up into the man's face, awash with a deep blush. The change in Snape was amazing. Even as Harry watched, the years dripped off of the man like melted paraffin off a wax statue. His hair darkened and thickened, the skin grew firm and less pale, the sharp glint of his obsidian eyes found their sparkle of ten years ago. And that odd smell, the faintly rotten odor, completely vanished and all Harry could smell was blood and want.

"Umm," said Harry, and realizing he was still holding onto Snape, dropped his grip and let his arms dangle to his sides, distinctly conscious of their existence and entirely unsure of what to do with them.

"Well…" The word was breathy and distracted.

Harry tore his eyes away from Snape and looked over at his friends, unsure which of them had spoken. Hermione and Ginny--eyes slightly unfocused and faces heated--each smiled an odd little smile. Ron's entire jaw hung agape. He looked completely flabbergasted.

"Uh…" Harry's range of vocabulary was momentarily dislocated. Snape took a step back from Harry and stared down at the obvious wet spot on the front of his jeans. A very self-satisfied smirk showed exactly what Snape thought of the entire situation. Harry tugged his shirt down as far as he could and wished Voldemort would Apparate in and distract his friends from this highly compromising situation.

Nobody said a thing.

"So, about that training," he blurted, cracking the silence.

"I think I need a cold shower first," said Hermione. "That was so much better than those damned books. Wow."

"Hermione!" Harry said, scandalized.

"What?" she asked. "That was…" she paused to search for her next word, "impressive!" Ginny nodded, eyes still glassy from the performance she'd received.

"Have you no shame, woman?" Ron asked, obviously distressed.

"Not really, Ron. And look who's talking." She laughed and turned to leave the room.

"Where're you going?" Harry whined. He felt markedly abandoned.

"I told you, cold shower. Why don't we all break and meet again in … an hour?"

"An hour?" He tugged at his shirt some more.

"Well, I might _not_ take a cold shower," she said, winking at them as she left the room.

"Yeah, I'll see you later. After that show I think I need a 'cold shower,' too." Ginny waved at them, quickly following after Hermione.

"Am I the only person here who didn't get off on that? Sheesh, people. You're all deranged." Ron left too, leaving Harry alone with Snape.

"Well… I guess I'll just…" he turned to follow the others.

"Sit down, Potter," Snape growled at him. Harry moved to the closest chair and sat. A small bookcase set against the wall kept his rapt attention: Plato, Nietzsche, Ovid. He found the fine details in the carpet fascinating as well, perhaps holding secrets only gods were privy to. His leg bounced in shallow, sharp twitches.

His crotch grew cold and finally, he looked over at Snape.

Those deep coal eyes were glued on him, his expression unreadable.

"You, umm, look better," Harry said.

"You better believe it, dearie," said a voice to the side. Harry jumped and looked around until he realized it was just a magical mirror.

"Thank you," Snape said.

Harry was dumbstruck.

"Well…" he searched for some word that fit this odd situation. He came up with nothing. "You're welcome?"

"I hadn't fed in quite some time, years in fact, until recently."

"Why not?" Harry asked as he crossed his legs, his words soft and slow to ensure he didn't startle Snape into realizing he was actually _talking_ to Harry.

"The reasons are my own and have nothing to do with you. As agreed I will teach you what I know. I have maintained contact with the Order as a Sentinel. However, I have reason to believe some new plot might be developing. Our time may be short."

Damp and uncomfortable, Harry uncrossed his legs, shifting in his chair to pull the fabric away from his skin. He couldn't go running off to 'take a shower' when Voldemort could act at any time. Casually, trying to attract as little attention as he could from the observant man, he cast a subtle cleaning charm and then crossed his legs again. "Well, sir, let's not waste time. Why don't I start by telling you about our last ten years, a condensed version of course, and explain all of the things we've learned."

Snape nodded at Harry. "Very well," he said and Harry told Snape about his life.

* * *

The door clicked shut as the sun first touched the velvety, purple sky. They'd talked all through the night, Potter telling him of their trainers, their expeditions and the skills and spells they'd studied over the last decade. It was truly amazing that this young man had mastered so much in the same time that Severus was turned and simply occupied space. He grunted in depreciation.

All four of them, powerful, like young immortals.

Throughout their informative discussion he was distracted by the taste of Potter's blood on his tongue, the beat of it through his veins, and the smell of it and the young man's semen mixing in the air. He couldn't erase the feel of Potter's hardness pressed against his thigh, of the mewling, pleading noises that had come from his lips…

Damn… He'd only wanted to fade into obscurity, but now he found himself tethered into teaching the annoying brat and daydreaming about that athletic body pressed against his own. It was just a side affect of the feeding, Severus knew that, but no one had ever reacted to his bite that way before, even if he only had a few sources to compare it to. That veela woman certainly had shown no such reaction. But having Potter in his arms, so responsive, so alive, his blood on his tongue, so vibrant, surprised him in ways very little had since he'd joined with the Dark Lord.

Severus stood before the mirror, his posture upright, his hair long and thick, his face, while still pale, no longer ghastly white. "Amazing what a little nourishment will do for ya, hun," said the mirror. Severus couldn't agree more.

* * *

Once again, the four were taking a late lunch around the dining table. Harry's eyes were red rimmed and they kept drooping as the other three discussed the day's plans.

"Harry, did you and Snape have another go after we left?" Ron asked accusingly.

"What!? Oh God, I'm never going to live this down, am I?" His cheeks burned with heat and he pushed his glasses up his nose. "You go and get bitten by a vampire and see how you react."

"Really? Was it that intense?" Hermione asked, far too interested for Harry's comfort. The leather of the seat creaked as he shifted under her scrutiny.

"Well, yeah. Do you think I would've been like… like _that_ with you watching if it wasn't that intense?" He buried his head in his hands. It seemed like he hadn't even been in control of his own body, all he had been able to do was _feel_.

"Well then… Do you think you could get old Snapey boy to introduce me to some of his vamp friends of the feminine persuasion?" Ron asked, wagging his eyebrows.

"Ron!" A muffin barely missed his head.

"What?" He laughed and the tension in the room dissipated. "Look Harry, I know you…ah, like men," Ron seemed pained to admit it, "and that you don't get out as often as I do…"

"Nobody else on Earth gets out as often as you do," Ginny pointed out.

"…and that you might be getting a little lonely… but Snape? You got," he made some random gesture towards Harry's crotch, "excited with _Snape_." Ron pointed out helpfully, as if nobody in the room had noticed. He didn't seem angry or worried, just confused.

"Vampire, remember. I bet if Umbridge was a vampire, you'd have reacted as badly as I did if she'd bitten you!"

"Ugh! Harry." The entire room groaned at that mental image.

"You all deserved that," he said with a chuckle, not at all sympathetic.

"Okay, as interesting as Harry's existent or non-existent sex life is, I think we need to decide what to do about Gabriella. She must be worried about us. I think we should return and let her know we won't be studying under her after all," Ginny said, bringing them all on topic. "And I think we should send a message to the Order to let them know where we are."

"Good idea. So, shall we go now?" The others looked around at each other, none all that driven with urgency. "Harry, why don't you tell Josephine and I'll tell Snape," Hermione said.

"Sure, grab your bags and meet here in a half hour."

"Why do we need our Battle Bags if we're just going to town to tell Gabriella our plans?" Ron asked.

"Ron." The tone of dramatic disappointment reigned. "Ron, Ron, Ron… A good bad-guy-smacker is always prepared," said Ginny with a flip of her hair. "You never know when Voldemort or one of his lackeys or a terrible boggart might show up at your tea party unannounced. Best to have the good china out, just in case." She left the dining room for her bedroom upstairs.

Ron and Harry exchanged glances and grinned.

Harry left to find Josephine. Wandering the halls he couldn't find her anywhere. Finally, as he stood on the back porch taking in the heady scent of the freesia and lilac, he decided just to call for her.

"Josephine? Are you out there?" he called.

"Yes, Master." The ghostly woman appeared before him. Her head was hanging down and she wouldn't meet his eyes; her usual effervescence subdued. "May I serve you?"

"We were just going to leave for the afternoon and we wanted to let you know," he said.

"What? You are leaving me? But you have just arrived and I have waited so, so long for you. Do not abandon me." She dropped down to her knees before him. "Please. I am sorry I exchanged harsh words with your guest, but he does not belong. He is an interloper. He stains me," she pleaded, begged and Harry watched on confused, unsure of exactly what had set her off.

"Josephine, please get up." He reached down for her arms and pulled her up. "What are you talking about?"

"You wish the vampire here," she said, eyes still downcast as she stood before him.

"Well, actually, yes; I do want him here. He is valuable to me; the things he has to teach me I might not be able to learn anywhere else."

"He is the teacher of my Master?" she mused to herself. "Well, I will allow him to stay because you request it, but please sir, remember, he is a wicked, selfish vampire who could kill you."

"Oh, I doubt Professor Snape would kill me…" _Make my head explode though, maybe_, he thought. "Remember, I'm a fully trained wizard." He dramatically pointed his finger up to the sky, making his point, and offered Josephine a smile. "Anyway, we'll be out for a while, but we should be back by this evening, and if not, the next morning."

"Yes, Master… Harry. I will await your return and have a splendid meal awaiting you."

"Actually, Josephine. Do you think I could cook sometime?" Harry offered her a sheepish grin. "How about you do breakfast and lunch and I get dinner?"

"You want to cook for yourself? If that is what you wish, Harry?" She gave him a very curious, disbelieving look. "But if you ever find you would rather have your meal ready, please do let me know."

"Of course."

Harry gathered his gear and waited for the others in the entry. With bags tossed over their shoulders, sturdy boots strapped on and generally happy faces, the others arrived.

"You look happy," Harry commented.

"We're going into town, how could I not be happy? Think we could spend the night there?" Ron asked.

"Mr. Hormone has gone over thirty-six hours without getting shagged, oh, the world is going to end," Ginny deadpanned. "I don't care; we can stay there if you want. Makes no difference to me."

"See, that is practically a full endorsement from Ginny. Eisenstadt, here we come!" Ron punched the air and walked out the door. The other three exchanged glances and shook their heads, amused.

**END BIT 4**


	5. BIT 5

**BIT 5 **

The town was busy, so Harry assumed it must be Saturday. Days of the week, holidays, even months were easily lost in their scattered lives. Saturday markets always flourished in these rural towns. They walked through the core urban streets, staring at people and the items for sale. Hermione bought a few new paperbacks that she found in English and Ginny purchased some fruit. Ron eyed every young lady that walked by. A few eyed back.

They left the lively shops for Gabriella's house with Ron cajoling promises from them that they would return to town that evening. Gabriella wasn't there when they arrived, her home locked up.

"Where do you think she is?" Hermione asked, peaking through a window. A small terrier looked up and wagged its stumpy tail. "Should we leave a note or just come back in the morning?"

"Both," Harry said. He pulled out some paper and scrawled a quick note before tucking it under the door. A sharp 'yip' greeted the message. "So, let's go set up a room and enjoy the city for the day."

They arranged their accommodations in a somewhat classy little hostel with a private bath and went their separate ways. "Be back here by at least 7 a.m.," Hermione said, eyeing Ron. "So do whatever you want, just no guests! This is a hostel and bringing in a one-off is just tacky."

Harry eagerly walked off with Ron into the busier section of the town promising some night life and a place to blow off steam, to dodge the ever-present memory of Snape's bite. It'd been a long time since Harry'd had a one night stand and even longer since he'd any kind of a recurring night stand. After asking around Harry and Ron headed for the industrial edge of town and stumbled on a street dotted with bars, some with dancing, and they went into the first one they came upon. It played American 80s music and some Euro-techno, and definitely rated on the dingy side. The smell of stale beer permeated the air.

The crowd was full of early 20-somethings and Harry felt a little old, though Ron seemed oblivious that there was any difference.

"So, get you a drink?" Ron asked, getting up from the tiny table they had commandeered.

"Yeah, um, how about a lager." He didn't drink Muggle drinks often and wasn't sure of the types of beverages offered. Ron left to elbow his way to the bar. Harry sat at the table, playing with a small candle, watching the flame dance and sputter, when someone approached him.

"Hallo," she said, sitting down in Ron's chair.

"Hallo," Harry said with a smile.

"Oh, you're English," the woman said in very good English. "Do you mind if I join you?"

"Not at all," Harry said, gesturing at an empty chair. She was fairly attractive and seemed friendly enough, though the three inches of make-up on her face were rather distracting. She smiled at him with a mouth full of crooked teeth.

This was his chance; his only action in the last year and nine months--not that he was keeping track--had been dry humping a vampire's leg. Tonight he could get a proper shagging.

Ron showed up with three drinks. "Beer?" he asked the woman.

"Sure. Hi, I'm Heather."

"Ron."

"Harry."

Heather leaned forward to offer an expansive view of her décolletage. "Nice to meet you. Are you on Holiday?" She sipped her beer.

"Yes," Ron said just as Harry said, "No."

Heather laughed. "Well, which one is it?"

Harry gestured for Ron to speak and so he did, laying on all the charm, piling up layers of myth and lies. "Well, we're research fellows at Cambridge studying some of the local ecological systems in the area. The rare mixture of elevation, moisture and soil make-up, which is a unique clay formation, creates the required habitat for the Rochester Snail. So we're here collecting soil and plant samples in areas of high populations of the little Rochy. We love our work so much that it really is like a holiday." He finished with a casual shrug and a look of shy modesty that Heather ate right up.

Harry knew he had lost this one to a far better player but didn't bemoan it as defeat. He scanned the crowd as Ron chatted Heather up and saw a few people who watched him with interest.

A group of three women were sizing him up like he was the fair day prize and one man was shyly looking over his body. He knew that it would only make Ron uncomfortable if he went off with a bloke, but those women frightened him. One of them even puckered her lips, kissing the air at him, and Harry only wanted to slither under the table to hide.

The man sat in a back corner alone, sipping a mixed drink. He looked clean, without a whitewash of foundation like the women, with spiky white hair and stylish black shirt. When Harry looked over at him they made eye contact and the bloke smiled, showing a deep set of dimples. He was definitely cute.

But how open was this town to two blokes together?

Screw it.

Harry downed the rest of his beer with one gulp. "Hey, Ron… I'm going to go get another drink."

"Yeah, sure thing," Ron said, only half noticing Harry leave as he continued to talk with the woman, running his fingers up and down the inside of her arm.

The bar was sticky with spilled liquor, but Harry leaned up against it anyway, striking a nonchalant pose. The middle-aged bartender took his order with passable English. Harry tried to order in German but it seemed most of the people wanted to practice their English with him, and a few minutes later his drink appeared, badly mixed and a little watered down with a drowned cherry floating in the middle.

He turned his back from the bar and looked over at the blond man. The man was still looking at him, so Harry took that as a good sign and walked over to his table.

"Guten Abend. Ist hier ein Platz frei?"

"Klar doch! Are you English?" he asked. Harry had to laugh because he didn't think his accent was that pronounced, but everyone in the town seemed to have had him pegged.

"Yes. I'm Harry." Harry offered his hand and the man took it.

"I'm Ed. I haven't seen you here before. We don't get many new men in here." He made some vague gesture that Harry took to mean _gay_ men, but didn't push it. He wasn't gay, he was bi.

"We're just in town to study some rare snail," he said with a grin as he sat down.

Ed's thin eyebrows bunched together. "A snail?"

"Uh, never mind. So…" He always sucked at the small talk. It wasn't like he was going to _date_ this guy or anything…

He just had to get his mind off Snape.

"Shall we go to my place?" Ed asked bluntly, and Harry felt relieved. He wouldn't have to fumble through inane chatter to get the man to drop trou. That was one bonus of men; they didn't require false promises or roses and were generally easy.

Nodding, Harry said, "Yes. Let's go." They slipped out the door together, Harry not even bothering to tell Ron he was leaving because he knew Ron wouldn't expect him to, and walked down the empty street to a two-door hatchback. Harry climbed into the passenger side seat, studying the stereo system as they traveled the short distance to Ed's place in awkward silence.

Ed lived in a small flat above a French bakery. There was a pervasive scent of baguette on the air which made Harry's stomach growl, though he wasn't remotely hungry. Butterflies had taken up residence in his belly. They climbed the stairs and Ed unlocked the door, welcoming Harry in. It was modestly furnished with nothing standing out. The walls were covered in framed posters from art prints to a black and white picture of Godzilla and there were a fair number of bookshelves filled with paperbacks and knick-knacks. Some second-hand furniture took up the central space. It was well lived in, yet clean.

Harry stood by the door, not really sure what to do next; it wasn't like he was an expert here, coming off a two year dry streak. Maybe he should have asked Ron for some tips, but he knew he'd _never_ live that conversation down.

Ed took off his jacket, and Harry followed suit, laying it across the back of a chair, suddenly bereft without something to do with his hands. Then the young man walked up to Harry, a crooked grin dancing across his lips. He stood about Harry's height and reached a hand up to comb through his dark hair, leaning in for a kiss.

Kissing? This man wanted to kiss? The few times he had had sex with men, it was usually straightforward and impersonal. It wasn't like he was looking for _that_ kind of intimacy.

The kiss caught Harry off guard. His eyes were frozen open, but when Ed opened his in response to Harry's charade of a marble statue, Harry finally kissed back. There was the usual bumping of teeth and he found it a little too wet, but it wasn't terrible. He tried to force himself to relax and enjoy it.

Ed's fingers laced through Harry's hair and they pulled him close, heightening the hunger of the kiss, the need and demand. Ed let out a moan, shocking Harry because he really felt no instinct himself to moan. This whole kiss thing wasn't doing it for him at all.

And then his mind returned to when Snape had bit him and he remembered the feeling of ecstasy that had coursed through his nerve endings, the pressure that had built up in his groin demanding attention. His cock twitched.

Oh God. He was getting hard while kissing one bloke by thinking of another. And a man old enough to be his father, no less. There had to be something wrong with that. Nimble fingers continued to entwine in his hair and then they pulled his head back. Leaving his lips, Ed traveled down Harry's neck, dropping quick pecks and little nibbles, and finally settled on the crook between shoulder and throat and licked.

Harry was instantly hard.

It was right where Severus had bit, only on the opposite side. The man seemed like he hadn't eaten in years the way he was devouring him, licking and sucking and nibbling. Harry pressed his hard cock against Ed's and he moaned again, this time with Harry accompanying him. Their voices mingled in passion as they rutted against each other.

"God yes," breathed Ed. He pulled away from Harry, all flush with a shy smile, and attacked the button on Harry's jeans. Harry watched him, unsure of what he should do in return, and decided Ed's jeans needed removal as well.

Harry's breath caught when he felt a strong, warm hand slip into his pants and grip his hard prick. He had to grip Ed to keep upright. God, it felt good to have someone else's hand there, stroking and pulling him. He momentarily lost focus, letting his head tilt back, drowning in the sensation. Ed lowered himself before Harry and tugged his jeans down, dragging them to his ankles. Suddenly, Harry felt terribly self-conscious, standing there in his shirt, hobbled by his pants with his cock standing at full mast.

Then Ed leaned forward and licked the head. With alarming skill he teased it with his tongue then began stroking the underside, playing, toying. When he finally took Harry fully in his mouth, Harry's conscious brain decided now was a great time for holiday.

Harry had only been with a few men, and to be honest, only a few women. He'd received a few blow jobs in his day, but this reduced all others to the fumbles of innocents. His cock was expertly handled, gently tended and Harry could tell he wasn't going to last long. He pulled on the short, blond hair, but that only made the other man suck harder. Harry's wobbly legs were gently nudged as far apart as his pants allowed and he could feel a finger gently press up to stroke his hole.

Oh Merlin. This bloke wanted to top! He wanted to ram it up Harry's arse! Scolding himself, Harry wondered why he hadn't thought of this earlier. He couldn't understand why guys didn't just rut against each other or share blowjobs. He didn't understand this whole penetration thing. He'd bottomed once and hated it, all pain and uncomfortable embarrassment. He'd topped once and thought it was okay, but felt guilty about the bloke who'd bottomed… So after that he usually tried to convince his partners that blowjobs really were enough and left it at that. Unfortunately, this had gone too far too quick and he really doubted they could backpedal now.

The finger stroking him was dry and tugged at Harry's tender skin. He tried to focus on Ed's mouth, but he kept getting distracted by the finger and noticed his cock was actually losing interest.

"Uh…" Harry said, gently pushing Ed off him. "I don't think this is really going to work." Ed let his cock go with a gentle lick and removed his hands from Harry's body. He eyed Harry's half hardness and looked up at him.

"Top?" he asked.

"Ah, well… more so than bottom." He had an urge to grab his pants to cover himself.

"Well, I haven't gotten laid in a while, so you can top if you want." Ed didn't seem all that excited about that prospect, either.

"Okay… or how about we just share blowjobs?" Harry offered, hoping Ed would go for it.

A grin blossomed on the man's face and he nodded eagerly. "Sure!" he said and dove back down onto Harry's prick, which found renewed interest in that hot, talented mouth.

* * *

"You two got back late last night," Hermione said. "Have a good time?"

Ron grinned with beatific pleasure. "Yes I did, thank you very much." He was about to go into detail that none of them wanted to hear about when Hermione turned to Harry.

"And you?"

"Ah, yeah. Sure." He tossed her a smile and went back to his breakfast. To be honest, he hadn't had a _bad_ time. It was pleasant enough to share fellatio with an attractive young man, but Harry had scampered out of there as soon as they'd finished and wandered the town alone most of the night. It wasn't that he was ashamed or anything. It was just that while his body had had fun, it hadn't necessarily been fulfilling.

At least it had scratched that itch and now he was certain he could keep his mind off Snape.

After breakfast was finished the four returned to Gabriella's house and this time she was in.

A slight breeze rustled the leaves in the trees surrounding her house. When she answered the door, her eyes were wide in surprise. The dog barked in greeting. "Oh my, I've been worried about you. You head off up L'Ombre Valley and I don't hear from you for days. I assumed the worst. I tried to go up there and find you but it was impossible."

"Impossible, how?" Hermione asked, tucking some hair away that the wind was teasing.

"Well, every time I attempted to Apparate to the location, I was directed off course. I ended up in Vienna, Kunta Hora and Venice, in the middle of the Grand Canal, mind you, which wasn't at all pleasant. So I grabbed a broom and flew out there, but I couldn't see anything. The Valley was so overgrown that the house wasn't visible, just a forest of trees."

"How odd," Hermione said, her mind obviously far away working on the abstract problem.

"So, where have you been these last few days?" Gabriella asked, perturbed. A cloud passed over the sun, sending them into a grey shadow.

"Actually, we've found a new trainer. His recommendation came late and since we have studied earth magic recently, we decided to switch to him. We're very sorry we didn't contact you sooner, we just got caught up in the training." Ron delivered the spiel they'd all agreed upon earlier since he was the most skilled at delivering placations. "We do want to thank you for your time though." Ron offered his most charming smile, which must contain some hidden power behind it if all the women he bedded indicated anything.

"Ah, well that's too bad," Gabriella said. A slight frown showed she was disappointed, or maybe annoyed. "I guess if you found a better teacher, I can't blame you."

"Not a better teacher," Ron rushed in to say, "just somebody who has something new to teach us."

"Oh, what would that be?" she asked.

"We're being taught by a Dark Arts Master," Ginny offered with a bat to her eyelashes and sweet smile. Harry flinched.

"What? You cannot learn the Dark Arts!" Gabriella seemed completely aghast. "Those are forbidden." A knot twisted and twined in Harry's stomach.

Hermione scowled at Gabriella. "Yes, but everyone needs to learn some at least once in their life, like smoking pot," she said, annoyed. "Someone, somewhere decided that all 'Dark Arts' practice would be illegal so that only the people who didn't care about the law could learn them. Sometimes you really need to fight fire with fire."

She looked about done with Gabriella. She pulled her paperback out of her bag, leaned against the house and started reading. Everyone stared at her. Harry kicked at the toe of his left shoe with the heel of his right, unsure of what to say, and was startled when Hermione giggled at something she'd just read.

"Well, do expect me to report this to your contacts with the Order." Gabriella's tone left no room for argument.

Harry watched a line of ants cross the sidewalk at his feet.

Hermione laughed again, flipping a page.

He looked from Hermione to the others. "Go ahead," Harry finally said after nobody spoke up, his tone hard. "We're doing what we can to be ready. Sorry if your societal sense of morals has been bruised. If you hear anything about Voldemort, let our contact know so we can deal with it and then we can _stop_ studying everything and anything we can get our hands on. Okay?"

He turned and walked away, followed by Ginny staring off into the clouds, her hands clasped behind her back, and Hermione with her nose in the romance novel. Ron looked over his shoulder at Gabriella and offered a short apology with his sweet smile and followed after the others.

He jogged a few steps to catch up with Harry and then said, "Well, that was a nice little speech. Way to burn that bridge." Hermione harrumphed. Harry shrugged.

"It doesn't really matter," Harry said. "We've only been training to keep ourselves from going bat-shit crazy anyway. I can't stand the waiting! I wish we could just kill the bastard once and for all, stop fucking around and just live our damned lives!"

"Let's just go home and begin our new studies. I bet everything will go quickly now that we found Snape," Ginny said. More clouds passed over the face of the sun, dropping them continuously in shade and then abruptly washing them in sunshine again.

"Is this a guess or a feeling?" Ron asked.

"A feeling," Ginny said.

Hermione lowered her book and stared at Ginny. "You know something's going to happen soon?" she asked anxiously. "Are we going to be finished with this whole mess soon?"

Whenever his friends looked eager to be done with their quest, guilt ate at Harry. It wasn't their quest, their prophecy, it was his. And he hated that they had put their lives on hold to continue with him. He'd asked them in the past to leave if they needed to, told them this was his fight. They laughed in his face and continued to walk by his side through the dry, dull days. He loved them so much.

With a frown of remorse, Ginny looked into Hermione's eyes. "I can only see so much. Of that, I can only understand a portion. And sometimes it is best if I do nothing, say nothing, about what I think I do understand. Because even if I think it all makes sense, one wrong move can cut that thread and start another. Time is fluid, eternal. Our choices change it. Just because I can see into the future, doesn't mean it is the same future we will get to. So I try not to tinker with it. But yes, Hermione, I think we're close to an end. I have seen options… not all of them good… but I do think it will be over soon."

* * *

They had gathered in the drawing room with Severus. A table had been brought in, made of ornately craved cherry, and extra chairs had been pulled from various other rooms. The bookcases and books had been taken to the hallway, as well as the chatty mirror and any other breakables.

"So, you wish to learn the Dark Arts?" Severus asked, catching each of his student's eyes with amused malice. "The pure Gryffindors have sunk so far." He spoke as if some simpering confidant was sitting at his side.

"Can we dispense with the taunts and get on with this?" Harry asked. "I've informed you of what we've learned and the things we've done. Do you have anything to offer us?"

Severus scowled at Harry's harsh tone. The young man had gotten dismissive and disdainful. He understood how to deal with a Potter who flinched at the sharp whip of his tongue, but not one who actually fought back thoughtfully.

"Fine." He leaned back into his chair, steepling his fingers before his face. "First we will learn about magic siphoning spells. What do you know about them?"

"You have to tap into the inner core of the person's or place's magic…" Ron started.

"…and with the strength of your own magic and will you have to overpower it," Ginny ended.

"There are several ways to do this, Professor," Hermione said, barely glancing up from her damned book, a lighthouse and a woman whose bust almost burst from her dress on the cover. "There are potions and hexes. But even more powerful and affective is sympathetic magic, such as a voodoo doll or gris gris bag. Normally those are pretty simple forms of magic, but they tend to work very well in power theft." She casually turned a page.

Though Severus couldn't quite believe these three just explained siphoning magic so simply and thoroughly, he gave not hint of his shock. "Anything to add Mr. Potter?"

"Yeah," Harry said, a look of triumph and hunger on his face. "I am doing it to you now." His laugher could have been aimed at a defeated adversary; it wasn't at all pleasant.

Severus' blood burned with his fury. How could he not have noticed? He checked his magical core and discovered a very minute amount of magic leaving him and funneling towards Potter.

"And check this out," Harry said, totally oblivious--or perhaps not even caring—the minor tempest of anger burning within the vampire. He pulled out his wand and performed a very ornate move of aerial calligraphy and Severus noticed his magic now went from Harry to the other three in series. "And then, we can do this…" all of them said _Tometus_ and then the magic leaked from Severus directly to each individual.

"We could do it better with a doll, but this is just a demonstration, right?" Ginny asked, seeming very proud.

"And I didn't want to take much from you initially, you rarely do, because then the wizard will notice. Best to take your time and start off slow, then really suck 'em dry when they can't do anything about it." With a defined cutting motion with his wand, Harry severed the siphon.

"Interesting, isn't it!" Harry said happily, his previously lighthearted expression returned.

"Why, exactly, did you come to me to learn about Dark Arts?" Severus lunged to his feet, looming over the foursome and radiating anger. "Apparently you have had excellent teachers in the past, go back to them." How could they have caught him off guard like that? These _children_?

These children who spent the past decade focusing on nothing else but magical attacks and defenses. They could probably teach Severus a thing or two and based on this complex display, he _knew_ they could. He was totally outclassed. By Potter. What had the world come to in his exile?

Harry looked gob-smacked. "Uh, sorry, sir. I was just showing you what we knew about magic siphoning. I guess I shouldn't have tested it on you." Harry stared down at the carpet, eyes wide in the study of the threads.

"Very observant. No. You should not have. Now get…"

"Professor. Snape, sir," Ginny interrupted him. "Please, we do need your help. We know quite a few Dark spells, yes, but we need to know more. We haven't learned anything that we feel could really destroy Voldemort once and for all. And we haven't learned anything that can find him. You were the Half Blood Prince and you have an amazing intuition into magic. Please help us. I think that by now, you're the only one who really can."

"We're cocky and self-confident. And we are powerful; don't let our general attitudes convince you otherwise. We won't cow to you, or anyone, but we will respect you. We do respect you. But we are not the same students you bullied in Hogwarts," Ron said. There was an honest, entreating look on his face, like a dragon tamer when his favorite pet is pissy over last night's snack and wants to nibble on the local human settlement.

They had changed. And he had too. Maybe it was time he showed them that.

Severus took in a deep breath and let it out. It didn't have the same effect it used to when he actually needed air, but he still found it calming. "Fine, Mr. Weasley," Severus said, to everyone's shock. "I have things I can teach you, but you might not remain the same as you are now. The Dark Arts change people."

Ron rose from his seat and took a step forward; all grins vanished from his face which now showed only a hard, compassionless visage. "We're already not the people we once were. We've already changed. We've hunted down renegade Death Eaters and Dark creatures. We've tortured. We've killed. We've lived without mercy for years. We've forgotten that these acts are supposed to be hard," he ended softly.

Severus blinked. "You do know you can turn out to be like _him_," he said.

"I can only hope we don't," said Harry, sadly. "We know that could be a struggle. For a while there we…" he looked around at the others, each of their faces showing pain and sorrow and remorse, but not giving into any of it, gripping onto something solid and unyielding within. "We sunk pretty low. Then each of us… well, we found our own ways of coping." Harry shrugged, replacing unformed words with a simple gesture. "We know we can be like him, but that knowledge keeps us balanced."

"I hope so. If I ever think you will become the next Dark Lord, any of you, I will kill you myself," Severus promised.

"We would expect nothing less," said Hermione from her chair. She was staring at her hands as if remembering some past act they'd been accomplice to.

Ron mumbled, "I'd like to see him try." The words sounded sad.

"Mr. Weasley, I would like to inform you that in my current state I have excellent hearing."

Ron blushed, and smiled, just a little.

Something about these four, maybe it was their past misdeeds, maybe it was their remorse, made them feel like kin. "In any case, I did agree to teach you. I leave it to you to determine if it is of value or not. Remember, you do not need to bathe in evil to fight it."

"We know, sir. Thank you." Ron nodded.

"And call me Severus. No need for formality anymore."

Harry grinned up at him. The others' smiled as well, though not quite as exuberantly. "Certainly, Severus. Now, is there anything else you want to quiz us on? I promise not to test it on you… without your permission of course."

"Undoubtedly," Severus drawled.

* * *

Crouching close to the earth, Harry shimmied over sticks and fir needles, trying not to knock his knees on any sharp stones. They were sent out into the forest to track down and capture, not slay, a mochit. They'd been charged to do it separately, not as a team and be back by daybreak.

The mochit was a small, mouse-like creature with innate teleporting abilities. It would vanish when it felt danger and appear at a nearby location, seemingly at random.

Harry had a life sensing charm active because until he actually spotted the mochit, he wouldn't be able to place a tracking spell on it. Unfortunately, this forest was full of mammalian life, almost entirely small mouse-like creatures. He knew it wouldn't be easy.

He sensed a rodent near a small patch of fruiting bushes and quietly crawled over to it. Layered with Disillusionment charms and sound dampening spells, he was hard to notice by most of the forest's inhabitants. But another specialty of the mochit was a highly adapted perception to pierce through these kinds of charms because its main predator was the flickering hound, which also had teleporting abilities as well as a shimmering hide quite like the demiguise. Severus had really challenged them on this simple mission.

He gently moved a branch aside and saw it, a small, slightly green rodent with very pointy ears and nose. Harry carefully brought out his wand and with a quick flourish cast _petrificus totalus_.

Unfortunately, the little mochit heard Harry and popped away. He cursed at himself when he realized he'd forgotten the tracking charm.

With a sigh, he focused his life-sensing spell again and walked through the forest, seeking out any rodentia signatures.

* * *

Severus wandered the halls of the manor. Sporadically that bitter ghost would show up and harass him, but her venom seemed to have dried up since Harry was about. Heir of Gryffindor, indeed. Severus shook his head. No wonder he'd been able to slay the basilisk with Gryffindor's sword.

He felt good with Harry's blood flowing through his veins. It gave him strength and dispelled that annoying apathy. Secretly, he admitted there were many times over the last few days when he longed to sample the boy again, just sink his teeth in and devour him. But he, like his four students, would fight that darkness within.

He did need to find another source of blood, though. If he wanted to maintain his current stature he couldn't allow himself to starve anymore. Maybe after they had defeated Voldemort he could take his rest, but now he had too many debts to pay, too many promises made to just sit on the sidelines any longer.

Standing in the portrait gallery, watching the paintings interact with each other, the door alarm clanged through the manor and he strode down the stairs to the main entry.

Josephine was already there, opening the door with her bright smile. "Welcome!" In walked the veela woman. With actual blood in his veins, Severus barely controlled himself when she entered. He wanted nothing more than to throw himself at her feet and beg for her lips, her blood. Her beauty was truly astounding and it moved his cold heart to see her.

"What is it you want, veela?" _I can amaze you with my potions, my lady. Would you like me to slay a dragon for you?_ An imperceptible clenching of his jaw held in any traitorous words.

"Ah, you look… better, Severus. I see you have taken to life once more?" She seemed pleased. As she walked into the house her leather armor creaked softly, like a worn saddle, and the smell of it mixed with the sweet bouquet of her pheromones.

"As it was thrust upon me, I accepted. I am a Sentinel and I will do my duty. Is that why you are here? Do you have news, veela?"

"Call me Serephia, Severus." Her wings stirred slightly. "And no, no new news as yet. I just came to check on you, vampire." She closed the distance between them and ran a finger down the side of his face, gently capturing his long hair and letting it cascade from her hand. "To see how you've been holding up."

Her smell was overwhelming and he could just feel her blood in his throat. Was the veela offering?

Her lips were close to his face and her breath was sweet. "To see if you were hungry again."

Oh yes, that was definitely an offer. Severus looked up into the tall woman's eyes. They swirled with a rainbow of hues, turquoise to aquamarine to the deepest blue of the sea on a stormy night. He lost himself within.

"Are you?" she asked, her voice comforting, melodious.

There was no way he could say anything but yes. He leaned forward and she tilted her head, exposing her neck. Severus leaned in and licked her throat, so smooth and fresh. She tasted pure, but so different from Harry. The veela tasted like the sweetest pear he'd ever bitten into. Harry tasted of power and something more… open? Honest? Severus wasn't sure, but while the veela was purely divine, Harry tasted… he couldn't place it. And with that uncertainty in his gut, he bit down and drank from Serephia a second time.

**END BIT 5**


	6. BIT 6

**BIT 6**

One by one the four students trickled back to the manor. Ginny arrived first, followed by Ron, Hermione and finally, hours after he'd gone out on the task, Harry, who was still plucking sticks out of his hair.

"How did you get back so quickly?" he asked, exasperated. He dusted off the knees of his jeans and then pulled a magically bound mochit out from his shirt pocket, its eyes wide with terror.

"What did you do to your poor mochit, Harry? You bully." Ginny reached out and petted its stiff fur.

"What! How did you catch yours, then?" he asked.

Ginny propped open her jacket pocket and Harry looked in to see two beady eyes staring back. A small, questioning squeak emerged from the depths.

"Wha… the hell?" Harry stuttered in shock.

"You catch more flies with honey than vinegar," Ginny said, giggling.

"This is another of those chair leg moments, isn't it?" Ron asked. He also had a magically bound creature. Hermione had her mochit in a small wire cage warded against teleportation.

Ginny laughed again. "You do know that mochits are sensitive to kind words and have a sweet tooth? Do your research boys." She pulled out some dried fruit and fed it to the little critter in her pocket, clicking softly at it. After moments of insanely sickening cuteness, she stood with a smirk and went looking for Severus.

"Yep," Harry said with a smile, "chair leg."

They followed Ginny around, looking for their Mentor of the Month—perhaps for longer this time—to let him know they'd finished his assignment. They found him in his usual room, sitting in his usual chair, looking flush and vibrant, yet deeply distracted.

In single file they entered the room; he turned his face them. Under hooded brows, Harry couldn't quite see his eyes, brewing within him a sense that something wasn't right.

"We caught our mochits, Severus," Hermione handed him her cage with the frightened little creature scampering around inside. Ron handed him his petrified mochit and Harry handed his over as well.

"Shall I let them go, sir?" Ginny asked, petting hers where it sat on her cradled arm. Its pointed nose was burrowing into her elbow seeking out a raisin.

Snape shook his head. "No, I need them for a potion," he said.

"What? You can't kill these sweet, little creatures." Ginny was aghast and she cradled her rodent closer to her chest, giving Snape a look like she'd discovered he mauled young children for fun.

"I'll just take some blood." From Ginny's gasp, he shook his head in annoyance. "Not for my own personal use, so don't give me that look. They will be released, after I am done with them." He returned his gaze to the fire.

"Oh, fine." She handed over her mochit, who scurried under the neckline of Snape's robes and the four laughed loudly to watch their stern Professor squirm. It took many minutes for him to finally catch the scurrying creature.

"You look good today," Harry finally said after the mochit was under control.

Severus glared at Harry.

"Just pointing out…" he let the words fall. Obviously this was one of many taboo subjects. "So, what next?"

"I must withdraw the blood from the mochits and then preserve it for future potion's use. I don't suppose any of you wish to join me?" he asked while standing, a stern gaze directed at them down his long nose.

"I will, sir," Ginny offered, eagerly raising a hand into the air. Harry wondered if she volunteered to keep an eye on Severus or an eye on how he treated the mochits.

"Very well, come with me." He and Ginny left for the basement laboratory.

"Why do you think Snape looks so good?" Harry asked Ron and Hermione.

"I assume he fed on someone else while we were gone," Hermione said as they walked through the foyer towards the hallway that led to the library. Light shone down upon them from brilliantly enhanced candle chandeliers lining the walkways.

"Why? Jealous?" Ron goaded.

Harry glared at Ron. "Of course not… Just, who do you think he fed from? There isn't anyone out here… the place is impossible to come upon. You heard Gabriella."

"Who knows. He must have traveled to town to feed. He better be careful, the last thing he needs is a mob with pitch forks seeking out the evil monster in the mountains," Ron said with a little too much glee.

"Oh come on now. Severus isn't stupid enough to get caught. He hid as a spy in Voldemort's army for how long?" Hermione pointed out. "But he could have an entirely different problem. If we assume he doesn't have many choices, whether he goes to town or not, he has to make sure he doesn't feed from one person too often."

Harry jolted to a halt and squeaked out, "Why?"

"Oh please, Harry. Remember back in Hungary two years ago where we fought that vampire who'd lost all his sanity? We studied vampires extensively for that case." Her eyebrows rose and she slowly rocked her head, prompting him to remember some tiny bit of esoteric knowledge that she could easily remember like it happened yesterday, but he had to drudge up with a backhoe. His backhoe failed him.

Walking again, he said, "Well, yeah, but I didn't study his feeding habits." A flock of geese accompanied them, flying through one portrait to the next, honking quietly.

Hermione sighed the sigh of the weary. "If a vampire feeds from someone too often they develop a blood joining, a bond."

"A bond? Like a marriage bond?"

"No, more like a mental connection than anything like that."

"I'm sure Snape knows about this, being a vampire and all, and wouldn't put himself in sway to anyone," Ron said.

"Well yes, but he doesn't seem to be a very… well let's just say it doesn't seem like he's taken to his vampire life and finding out about that bond took a ton of research." She tugged open the door to the library and they continued to the corner under the huge stained-glass window that they'd claimed as their own. "An uninformed vampire might even feed from the same person over and over if the victim proved to be a willing or easy target. It isn't something everyone knows unless you study vampires in depth. They are fairly rare and all; not your run-of-the-mill dark creature," Hermione tried to convince them. "So, he might not know," she ended lamely.

* * *

Tucking the mochits into shielded cages, Severus prepared his tools to withdraw their blood. Ginny stood close by, watching his every move.

"Do you mind?" Severus scowled at her. But that young first year who would squeal and run away had long since grown into this self-confident young woman, who only grinned at him, taking a minute step back.

"I just want to watch your procedure, sir," she said. "I've never worked with mochit blood. Do you ever have problems controlling yourself around spilled blood, sir?"

She asked her intrusive question so casually that Severus almost automatically answered. However, he wasn't that far removed from his ever present vigilance. "Miss Weasley, I do believe anything involving a personal nature on my part is really _none of your business_." He bristled and pulled out a thin crystal pipette and some glass vials from the middle drawn at the counter. The girl hadn't left, hadn't even seemed flustered by his harshly spoken words.

He stunned Hermione's mochit, removed it from the cage and laid it upon the black marble counter top. He joined the glass tube to the animal's neck with a small string of magic that tapped the vein and drew a tiny amount of blood into the vial. Ginny watched closely, face impassive as he stopped the blood flow, returned the mochit and performed the same procedure on the next. When he finally finished he had four small vials of blood. Its smell tickled his nose and he inhaled deep only to cease immediately when he noticed the girl watching him.

"Why did you need those crystal tubes, Severus? Couldn't you just draw the blood with the simple _profactus_ spell and not worry about the implement?" Ginny asked.

"I am using the blood in a potion designed to enable the drinker to phase in and out of space, quickly and spontaneously for short distances."

"Ah, to distract your opponent? Quicker than an Apparate with less recharge time?" Ginny asked.

Severus stared at her. He decided to give up on shock. "Exactly. I use the crystal because…" he looked over at her, expecting her to finish his sentence.

"Because by filtering the blood through the specialized pipette, you are removing the platelets from the blood, which can thicken any type of blood-based potion that needs fast reaction, such as speed enhancing spells."

"Exactly," he said again. He walked to a large cupboard and opened it. It was well lit within, with shelves containing similar cages that once held a menagerie of small, magical creatures. He placed this new cage with the four mochits in it on the shelf second from the bottom; the magical lighting highlighted the green in their fur. Next, he dug about in a container on the floor, scooping out some formed pellets to feed the little mochits after reviving them.

"Won't you let them go, sir?" Ginny asked with mild anxiety. "If you don't need them…"

"I might need them. I am still in the experimental stage and I would be loath to relinquish my only stable supply of mochit blood. I intend them no harm, and as I said earlier, I will eventually return them to their forest." Silently, he dared her to question his word.

"Can't you just duplicate the blood with a _doplurious_ spell?" Ginny asked, squatting down to look evenly at the cage full of mochits.

"You know that doesn't work for spell components. Unless you know something I don't—" Severus forced out between his clenched teeth.

Ginny looked up suddenly at him, eyes wide with disbelief. Then she shuddered, her entire posture changing from the previously curious girl, rolling up her spine as she stood. Milky clouds washed over her once bright eyes and her face grew slack. "The Dark One builds His power." Her tone was dry and far away and Severus immediately knew what was happening as the youngest Weasley spoke prophecy. "He builds His allies. They are His mycelium, they are His support, They are _everywhere_. Join with him of the power to _vanquish_ the Dark One. Join with him and no other."

Ginny stumbled slightly, reaching out for the counter before her. She shook her head and concentrated a moment, eventually replying to the last thread of their conversation. "No, I guess I don't. I mean, you're the potion master, if it doesn't work, you would know." She smiled awkwardly and left him alone in his cold basement.

* * *

The other three sat in their usual locations in the library, Hermione settled into a new bosom buster and Ron performing his regular calisthenics. Harry lay on the floor, staring up into the intricately carved ceiling depicting scenes of ancient battles to tame this land between wizards and the darkness. One wizard, tall and gray haired with a full beard and pointed blue hat, reminded Harry of Dumbledore and he thought sadly of his old mentor.

The door burst open, pushed so hard it slammed against the wall, and Ginny stumbled in.

"I think I spoke prophecy to Snape," she rushed out. She started pacing the floor before the door. "I have no idea what I said; I can't remember anything of it… Well I think it had to do with Voldemort…" she paused for a moment, a look crossing her face that suggested she was trying to name an unknown taste on her tongue. "Yes, Voldemort. He had this completely dumfounded look on his face and I just panicked and left." Her breath was shallow as she continued to pace back and forth. "What do we do?"

"Well, why don't we just go and ask him," Hermione said, getting up from her chair, actually laying the book down on a table, propped open to save her place.

Harry watched Ginny march back and forth, her shoulders stiff and her entire body practically vibrating under the tension; then he walked up to her and wrapped her in his arms. As if every bone in her body was hit with a Jelly Legs Jinx, she slumped against him. She was always off after delivering prophecy, very scattered and almost frightened. She confided in Harry once that she hated losing control like that, unable to remember what she'd said. It reminded her too much of being possessed by Tom Riddle, of having her soul subverted.

"We can't ask him!" she said, her voice pitched high and panic overwhelming her eyes as her fingers dug into Harry's chest. "We can't just walk up to him and say "So Snape, what did Ginny just tell you when she got all spacey?" God! He'll know! He'll know about me."

"Gin." Harry soothingly petted her hair. "He probably already figured that part out. It's going to be okay. Just take a deep breath."

She pulled back and looked at him, a wild look in her eyes, and Harry thought she was going to run, run away from the manor and them, run away from this whole hunt for Voldemort, and more importantly, from her seer ability. Sometimes when the vision was so strong, even if she didn't remember anything, it triggered something inside his friend that took away her reason and self-control. Then, in the next instant, she collapsed into him and cried hot, wet tears.

Many minutes passed as the three friends kept a tight, protective circle around Ginny. Finally, her sniffling eased and she pulled back to wipe at her red eyes. "Yeah. Okay. I'm ready."

"You sure you want to come?" Ron asked.

She sniffed and swallowed. "Well, I wouldn't be much of a Gryffindor if I skated out of this one. Let's go."

The quartet left the library in search of Snape, who had vacated his basement potion's laboratory for his quiet refuge in the drawing room.

"Come in," came the soft reply as if the man had expected them. They pushed the door open quietly and entered as one unit, banding around their anxious friend. Snape sat in his usual chair but this time he was surrounded by piles of books and old scrolls.

"Uh, Professor Snape," Ginny said, falling back to old habits. "You know what I said to you tonight, it must have sounded odd… you couldn't mistake it…. Well… what did I say to you?" she asked hopefully.

"You wish to know what prophecy you spoke to me earlier?" Severus asked in a droll tone. Ginny nodded. "How long have you been a prophet, Miss Weasley?"

"Ah, it kind of developed after we finished school," she said.

"How many prophecies have you spoken since you developed this ability?" he asked, his voice low.

"Actually sir, I'm not entirely certain. I… uhh… don't always remember when I have them, and even if I do remember that I had one," she looked down at her left boot, "I don't usually remember what I say."

"Do you ever remember what you say?" Severus asked with interest.

And Ginny, being a true Gryffindor and under interrogation by her mentor, decided to come clean. "No. Never." There was a quiet silence as Harry rubbed circles on her back. Then she said, "But I usually have a sense of what I prophesized about. And I think I told you about Voldemort."

"Ah, I see. Do you have any other sense of what you spoke of in the laboratory?"

"What?" She gaped at him. "Was it about more than Voldemort?"

Severus didn't say anything, only looked her directly in the eye in that disarming way that made even the most stoic veteran squirm.

With something almost tangible to focus on, she pulled herself up straight. Her eyes tilted up above everyone's heads and her face adopted that 'tasting' look once again. After a moment her eyes narrowed and dropped to Severus' face.

"And Harry."

Severus' face grew even paler than normal.

"What?" Harry asked, concerned. "What did she say?" The prophecy was about him and Voldemort, and Snape was the only one who knew it. Could he trust him to tell them the truth? The man looked so thunderstruck that Harry knew it couldn't be good. But as long as it happened soon, as long as they could just get it all over with, he almost didn't care if it did develop into bad news.

Snape cleared his throat and looked up at Harry. And then he recited the prophecy.

"The Dark One builds his power. He builds his allies. They are his mycelium, they are his support, they are everywhere. Join with him of the power to vanquish the Dark One. Join with him and no other."

Hermione gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. The bottom of Harry's stomach fell into a deep, dark pit. "What does it mean?" he asked, trying to ignore the preposterously obvious reason Hermione seemed so shocked.

"Oi, Harry, even I get this one," Ron said, smacking Harry lightly on the back of his head.

The pit was endless.

"Do you mean…?"

"Harry, you have to blood join with Snape," Hermione told the room.

**END BIT 6**


	7. BIT 7

A/N And now, some of your questions should be answered. Also, this edition has been edited from the original.

**BIT 7**

"How do we know we can trust him," Ron asked, stomping from library door to corner to door again. His shoulders were set and he had the look of someone ready to do some major hexing in order to protect his friend. "He could be making it up."

On the bench below the stained-glass window, Ginny sat surrounded by the comforting presence of her friends and hundreds of books. Her legs were pulled up to her chest with her arms wrapped tightly around them. A thoughtful saint gazed down upon the room from the window, dull from the evening's shadows, wearing tattered, brown robes and surrounded by frolicking rodents and birds.

"Ginny, does what he said have any truth to it?" Hermione asked as she reached over to grip Ginny's hand.

"I don't know!" she cried. "I can't remember them. It doesn't _feel_ like a lie, I mean, it could be right…"

"I think it's correct," said Harry in a small voice. The other three looked over at him where he stood in the center of the library, various expressions of shock on their faces. "I mean… It doesn't feel _wrong_?" He ended his words as a question, unsure of just how he knew that the prophecy sounded right, but knowing, once he heard it, that it was irrefutable.

Like it spoke to something written in his DNA, something threading throughout his entire soul.

Ginny tilted her chin in agreement. "I'm so sorry, Harry."

"It isn't your fault, Gin." With a deep breath he forged on. "Okay, so Hermione, what exactly is this joining thing?"

Earlier, Hermione had written out all of the information she could remember on vampiric blood bonds and joinings. She glanced at the scroll in her left hand, at least fifteen inches long, and passed it over to Harry. She released Ginny's hand and then slouched against the silken wallpaper.

"Well, Harry, let's see. He has to feed from you three times. If you are the only person he has fed from three times it is a more powerful blood joining. The more people he joins with, the weaker the joining is for each individual. Much weaker." She paused, and then added, "And eventually the blood does fade, so it isn't a permanent thing if no more blood drinking is done after a time."

Still, Harry was confused. "Okay, so he drinks more of my blood. What exactly does that do for me? Why is it necessary to join with Snape to kill off Voldemort?" He wanted to know every detail of this nightmare ride.

"First there is a mental connection. You can sense each other's thoughts and sometimes if the bond is really strong, you can telepathically communicate." She cleared her throat and stared down at her hands in her lap as she picked at a fingernail.

"And…" Harry knew Hermione and knew when there was something she didn't want to tell him. He knew it had to be bad.

"_And_," she said dramatically in imitation, "If there is…closeness involved between the vampire and his…bondmate then there is an exchange of power. Normally, if it was two non-magical individuals, they would share life energy, such as if one was sick the healthy one could give them energy to help the recovery. One vampire named Volacia actually brought her consort back from the dead," she explained impressively. "However, if the two individuals were wizards, they could share their magical energy as well. Essentially, you would have one wizard with twice the powers. If you had two _powerful_ wizards joined, well… you can guess."

Ron turned a shadowed shade of green. "Umm, Hermione?" he asked. "What do you mean by closeness?" He stuffed his hands in his pockets as he peered at her.

"Oh come on Ron, do you want me to spell it out?" she snapped at him.

Harry blushed. He knew exactly what it was Hermione was talking about.

Hermione opened her mouth, faltered, then, "They have to be lovers…. Or even better, _in_ love. Then there really would be no stopping Harry if he had all of Snape's power, too. As vampires are very emotional and sensual beings, the sex and the emotional attachment are vital to their existence."

Harry swallowed past a thick lump in his throat as his three friends looked at him; all held pity in their eyes.

"Well at least you're gay, Harry," Ginny offered weakly.

He looked up into the mosaic masterpiece above him. "I'm not gay, I'm bi," he mumbled. The Dumbledore replacement looked down upon him sadly.

Ron threw an arm around Harry's shoulders. "Well…" Ron drawled, "you really only have to bond with him, mate; I'm sure you don't really _have_ to fuck him."

"Thanks for that very blunt and direct observation, Ron," Harry grumbled as he pulled away from his friend, refusing to look at any of them from his tiny world of disbelief and… anticipation.

"Honestly, while falling in love seems a little far fetched, I'm sure having sex with the man won't be that much of a trial for you, Harry. I mean… you did _seem_ to enjoy it when he fed from you." Harry was shocked to see Hermione blushing after all of those damned smut novels she consumed. She took a deep breath and rushed out the rest of what she wanted to say. "And for Harry to really have the power to do this, isn't it better if he goes the distance here instead of just the halfway mark? Finish it once and for all?"

Logically Harry agreed, but he couldn't help the stiff sense of panic that had curdled in that bottomless pit his stomach had become. Holy fucking hell. Could he do this? He thought of Snape and Snape's lips on this throat and his little head twitched, telling him that yes, yes he could.

With watermelon pink spreading across his cheeks, he wasn't sure what he was more horrified of—the fact that he had to fuck Snape or the fact that he wanted to.

* * *

It was Severus' turn to pace. Before the blazing fire—now always warm thanks to the arrival of the 'Heir'—Severus wore a thin route in the rug. The piles of books were now neatly stacked and pushed to the wall.

He'd been a vampire for six years, forced, tricked really—he remembered with bitter rage—by his creator and was turned into this deathless beast. Then he'd been abandoned, uneducated to his new state. He'd known only that he must drink blood and avoid sunlight and that he would gain certain new strengths and powers while losing some of himself in the exchange.

Dark creatures had never been his expertise, only focusing adequate study on werewolves after his close dance with death at the sharp fangs of that idiot Lupin. Of course he knew how a vampire was created, and even as that monster had taken his life away, he'd known exactly what was happening. But he'd had no idea what this 'joining' might be, if it was some banding together in combat—which he had always technically done—or if it meant something more esoteric.

He glanced at the books.

Severus wanted to cry. Damn these vampiric passions. He had killed everything but hate and anger during his years as a Death Eater and now those other, long dormant emotions surfaced, trying to make up for lost time.

Damn it. Damn it all! Severus picked up an aged journal and threw it across the room. It hit the wall and fell with a thump to the floor; one page slipped loose from the bindings and fluttered to a stop before his feet. It had revealed things his own creator never had. Such as he never could have killed himself by not feeding. His new abilities had never been explained to him; he knew they existed but he didn't understand how to send the blood through his body to charge the super feats he'd read about. He had never been told that he would have this drive to find someone to _join_ with. How simpering did that sound? And that this joining would allow him, and whoever he bound himself to, to share their power.

And that sex strengthened that power and love made it unstoppable.

Severus hated his life, or unlife or nondeath or whatever condition he existed in.

And he hated that he had almost bound himself to that damned veela. That woman was up to something; he bet she knew about this blood joining and that she also knew Severus didn't. Every time she came around he was entranced, all too willing to drink of her blood. Only one more time was needed…

But why was she doing this? She was a Sentinel as well, a watcher of the Order of the Phoenix and its affiliates, stationed all over the globe to keep their eyes and ears open to any of the Dark Lord's activities. But Severus wasn't going to be easily duped again. That vampire had already entrapped Severus during the one vulnerable moment he'd allowed himself in the last decade, he wasn't about to let a _veela_ get him as well.

Plus, he'd realized he'd never checked to see if she even was a Sentinel, he'd just taken her word for it. Merlin, these years in seclusion with nothing but a poorly-dispositioned house-spirit for interpersonal interaction had lost him his edge.

He knew he had to do more research on veela and their powers. He had to avoid the damnable woman until he could make sure he could ward off her draw.

And then there was Harry.

The prophecy of the Weasley girl sounded like he should join with Harry. Did that mean that these past ten years all directed him here, as a vampire residing in a house of the Heir of sodding Gryffindor just to drink his blood three times? Severus didn't often believe in destiny or fate, but he had to chuckle sourly at this new revelation. He and Potter had always been drawn to each other in animosity. Now they were drawn together by the stars, or at least the words of one girl, in unity to defeat the Dark Lord once and for all. As was typical for Severus, he was once again being used by something beyond his own power.

Did he think it worth it?

As Severus stood before the fireplace, he thought back to the taste of that blood, so alive, like ambrosia, like the best of anything he'd ever had—and then he thought about that firm erection against his thigh. A soft moan escaped him at the memory and his heart beat once, heavy and deliberate, as he mulled over the information he'd read about the joining. It would be stronger with sex.

His heart beat again.

A tentative knock on the door startled the normally unflappable man. He turned his head to stare at the door and watched it crack open. A black-haired head poked through and looked over at him.

"Severus," Harry said.

"Come in," Severus replied.

Harry walked into the room, closed the door behind him and leaned against it, his hands resting on the door handle behind him. He looked beautiful, Severus thought, shocking himself. Beautiful and innocent, though he knew the young man was only slightly less innocent than he was himself. He exuded charming insecurity and Severus scolded himself brutally. When had he ever seen insecurity as charming?

Severus made no move and neither did Harry and they stood there as the moments passed them by, the crackling fire a lullaby to the strain in the room. Finally, Harry pushed himself off the door, wiped his palms on his jean legs, and took a step towards him.

"So, umm… Hermione let me know about this joining thing." He dug in his pocket and pulled out a tightly wound scroll and unrolled it. He looked down at the words on the creased parchment and then back up at Severus, holding his gaze. There was something in those bright, green eyes that Severus wondered at. There wasn't any fear there, or abhorrence, but whatever it was, Severus couldn't read, or perhaps it was something he just didn't recognize.

"It looks like Ginny's prophecy wants us to form a blood bond," Harry read from the scroll in a very level and dry voice. Harry looked back up at Severus and asked, "Do you know what that means?"

"I am a vampire, Potter. Of course I know what that means," he spat.

"Okay. Well… Umm… There's another aspect to it. Uhh… if we…" His impersonal façade was breaking down.

Severus decided to take pity on the man. "Sex strengthens it," Severus said with a sigh. Harry nodded, a kind of wild, uneasy look about him. "Are you homosexual, Mr. Potter?" he asked, though he knew the truth already.

Harry shivered, but then said, "I'm bisexual."

"Ah, I see. So you understand the mechanics of male sex."

Harry shrugged, looking as embarrassed as if he was standing naked on stage, and then nodded when Severus made an impatient snort.

In a flash, Severus was before Harry, using one of his newly understood powers. Why bother with that teleporting potion when he could move at such speeds? Harry took in a sharp breath and stepped back towards the door.

"Is that what you want, Potter? To take my power and turn it against the Dark Lord?" he said in seductively dark tones, leaning close, but not close enough to touch the wizard before him.

"I want him done with. I want this lifestyle done with. I want to get on with real living," Harry said with conviction. "If it means joining with you, if it means _fucking_ you, sir, then I'll do it." Harry said the word 'fucking' with such sultry confidence that Severus was taken aback and realized how eager he was to drink from him again.

He leaned closer, breathing in Harry's scent, yet still evading contact. "Do you believe your little friend? That she is a seer and she speaks prophecy?"

Minutely, Harry's chin lifted. "Yes."

"And do you believe that I relayed her prediction accurately, that I didn't somehow twist it to my own benefit?"

Harry's gaze was sharp as it met Severus'. "I don't think you lied about it. And I think you're as shocked about this entire situation as I am." He pulled himself to his full height and looked up into Severus' face. With a cheeky grin he placed a hand on Severus' chest, making that connection that Severus had denied, "And I think you're not at all adverse to this arrangement." He trailed his hand down Severus' front, over his stomach, wrapped it around his waist, and then pulled them flush together. Severus could feel Harry's erection hard against him and sighed as his own rubbed against Harry.

The smell of blood pumping hard through the wizard's veins, furious with life, accosted Severus' nose. He leaned forward and drew in another long breath, absorbing the man's pheromones. Harry tilted his head to one side, exposing his neck, allowing Severus to lick a long path from the base of Harry's neck up to his ear. He could feel the pulse increase; feel the pressure against his sensitive tongue and all he wanted was to bite down and _take_ what was his, what was being freely offered.

Harry pressed his cock up against Severus, busying his hands with removing the thick over-robe in which Severus was always encased. Button after button was undone and the robe fell unceremoniously to the ground like fall oak leaves.

Severus stood there in his shirtsleeves and trousers, sucking and nibbling on Harry's neck. With effort he pulled away from that heaven and tugged Harry's jumper over the young man's head, who by now was fumbling with the buttons on Severus' shirt.

With a growl, Harry said, "Damn, Severus. Too many buttons." Frantically he yanked the shirt open and all of the white buttons flew through the air like tiny snowballs and rattled against the many surfaces they hit.

Topless, they studied each other as emotions, lust and longing, wrestled control of their reason and stability. Severus leaned down again, working on Harry's jeans as the younger man helped him, quickly shucking off the remainder of his clothes.

Merlin, he was beautiful. Severus leaned back and stared at the amazing man before him. Though his hair was a thick nest, he was toned and tanned and his hard cock aimed right for Severus, eagerly leaking with anticipation.

Here a young wizard offered himself to Severus. Completely. Something tugged at his heart and it beat, it beat strong and hard and he knew he wanted Harry like he hadn't wanted anything in far too long. Thick saliva coated his mouth as this canines extended. Harry's eyes widened as Severus leaned forward and buried his face in Harry's neck, sniffing, sensing, feeling Harry. _Intoxicating_. As his control slipped, he opened his mouth wide and bit.

This was his. _Harry was_ _his_.

Harry's moan of pain morphed into one of pleasure as Severus began to suck the blood from his veins. The naked man writhed and Severus held him tight as he fed for the second time of his sweet life's fluid. With soft undulations Harry rubbed against Severus, who wanted nothing more than to be naked with his lover. As soon as his hunger was sated, he withdrew and retracted his fangs. Harry whimpered. Then, Severus dropped to his knees and engulfed Harry into his mouth.

"Fuck. Merlin, Severus. _Yesss_…" The 'yes' emerged so sibilant, Severus was uncertain if Harry spoke parseltongue.

With a deft tongue, Severus nursed Harry with vigor and rapt attention, neglecting not an inch. Then Harry was tugging at his hair, pulling Severus away. He withdrew and gazed up into Harry's face.

Wanton.

Harry dropped down on the ground next to Severus, panting with want, and reached for Severus' zipper. They both worked to remove his trousers and finally they were fully naked together for the first time.

Harry's eyes were brilliant, blinding with their intensity and Severus read the passion logged there in each golden fleck. He also read uncertainty, but underlying it all was trust. Harry trusted Severus and that nearly broke his beating heart.

Damned be these emotions.

He leaned forward, one hand braced against the floor and the other reaching for Harry's hair. He brushed a strand away and kissed him. It was gentle, the most gentle thing they'd ever shared and when Harry responded, it was as caring as its predecessor.

Harry leaned back into the rug and pulled Severus along with him to spread his body across the younger man's. While Severus was taller, it didn't seem a hindrance, their bodies just clicked. Fit. They kissed languidly, building slow and burning sweet.

Tentatively, Severus thrust, rubbing against Harry, coaxing a moan from him around their dancing tongues. Harry rubbed back and reached around to grab Severus' arse, caressing and massaging the flesh. They rocked back and forth, the friction and tension building, their speed growing and soon kissing was relinquished to harsh breaths and grunts of pleasure.

Harry threw his head back with a cry, pulling and rocking against Severus. He wrapped his legs around Severus' narrow hips, snaking one hand down between them, grabbing and rubbing them together, merging the precome as Harry started a low pitched keening.

"Yes, Severus…. Merlin, so good. Fuck… Fuck!" and he unloaded his pent up heat, gushing over their combined cocks, the added lubrication forcing Severus to follow Harry at a thoroughbred's pace. The odor, the passion of the man below him, it was too much and soon his entire body spasmed with intensity as he groaned out in pleasure.

"_Harry_…"

Boneless, he collapsed on top of Harry, breathing hard though he didn't need the air to live. It was the pleasure of the breath, the pleasure of the warm body and the come and the blood that he dined on, that every vampire longed to drown in.

"Wow," said Harry after a few moments.

"Indeed," replied Severus.

The two lay in a tangled heap on the floor as the cool air slowly drew out goosebumps over Harry's skin. Severus rolled off Harry, who turned with him, casually tossing an arm over Severus' chest. Slowly, he drew one long finger up and down Severus' skin, causing the tight flesh to twitch.

"'m cold," Harry murmured into Severus' neck, and he tried to burrow deeper, inch more closely to his undead lover.

"Perhaps, we should dress," Severus said with some regret. It meant Harry would leave his arms and currently he felt quite content. Harry lifted his head, looking at Severus with eyes soft and relaxed.

"Yeah, I guess," he said. Dried fluids cemented them together and with a flick of his wrist, Harry banished the mess. Those rose from the floor and Severus gathered his clothing. With a mending charm the buttons flew back through the air and affixed themselves to his shirt. With his outfit bunched in his arms, he turned to watch Harry.

Harry was tugging on his jeans and had one leg in, the other aiming for the leg hole as he hopped to keep his balance. Severus smiled.

He finally got his foot in, pulled his jeans up and buttoned them low on his hips. When he noticed he had an audience he looked up at Severus, his eyes wide and his cheeks a fetching pink.

"What?" he asked.

"Just admiring the view," Severus said. The words just slipped out and they shocked even him.

Harry grinned, slightly crooked and more than a little shy. "Nice view I got, too." He wriggled his eyebrows at Severus, who finally realized he stood there completely naked with only a wad of clothing to salvage his modesty.

With a snort he began to clothe himself, knowing that Harry's view of him couldn't even compare, but he still took enjoyment in making a show of casually buttoning up his shirt, watching Harry's eyes follow the slowly disappearing patch of pale skin.

"So… umm," Harry said. "We need to do this at least one more time." He rushed the words out, flaming as the blood no longer needed in his cock invaded his cheeks. He kept brushing his hand over the back of his head, stirring his hair into an even wilder frenzy.

"I need to feed from you once more, yes. Shall we plan on doing this elsewhere next time? Perhaps a bedroom?" Severus inwardly smirked as the red-faced man's eyes grew wide.

"Ah, yeah. That'd be good." He offered Severus another shy grin, now massaging the back of his neck, and seemed to accept whatever it was he saw in Severus' face because his grin widened and then he turned and left.

Severus pulled on his robe and stood alone in the room. Something inside him rejoiced and he felt like climbing to the tallest point on the roof and whooping to the world. But Severus Snape was a controlled man and would never do such a thing as a whoop, so instead he let slip a light chuckle.

* * *

"So, how was it?" The minute Harry closed the door he saw his three friends standing there in the foyer, waiting.

"Sweet Merlin, you weren't listening, were you?" Harry was sure his face glowed with the power of his utter and complete embarrassment.

"Oh yes," Hermione said eagerly. Ron even had a grin on his face.

"We were just sticking around to make sure you were safe." Then he laughed. "'Bout time you actually had a good shag there, mate," he said, clapping Harry on the shoulder.

Ginny was beaming proudly, like she was the hook-up fairy and her match promised hours of mind blowing sex, a white picket fence and many black-haired babies.

"So, who topped?" Ron asked with a glint in his eye.

"Ron!" Harry, Ginny and Hermione all said at once.

"I can't believe you'd ask that," Harry said. Could this moment get any more awkward?

"I can," responded Ginny.

"So, who did top?" asked Hermione. Yes, it could.

"None of your business. Now, if you don't mind… I don't want to sit in the afterglow with you lot." He turned from them and headed for the stairs, taking them slowly as he thought about their question.

Neither of them topped. Technically, they hadn't even shagged, though it felt fucking amazing. Did they actually need to do the whole penetration thing for this joining to work? Damn. He didn't know where to look for more information and sure as hell wasn't going to ask Hermione. Maybe he would just play it cool and see how the bond actually felt once it started to develop. See if Severus started directing them to actual penetrative sex… God, could he do it? The very thought both annoyed and exhilarated him.

* * *

After fitfully tossing in his bed, Harry gave up his attempt at sleep, leaving his room for the veranda in the back. The night blooming flowers filled the air with such intoxicating scents, they soon caressed away Harry's worries and concerns.

The night was pleasant; the stars were out and twinkling jauntily; a quarter moon hung low in the sky. Harry wasn't sure why he was letting this bother him as much as it was. Wasn't it more of a worry that he was entering into a blood joining with a vampire than the fact that he was afraid of actual sex?

"Master?" Harry looked over and saw Josephine's soft glow to his right, framed by pink jasmine.

"Hello, Josephine. And please, call me Harry." His quiet words slipped through the night air.

She stepped forward. "Yes, Harry. Are you well; you seem down?"

"Just thinking…"

"About that squatter in the drawing room?" she asked without her usual vile disdain.

"Why do you hate him so?" Harry asked. "Has he done something to you?"

"He lived here without asking me, without permission from the blood, but something stopped me from evicting him, something has limited my actions. I thought he had done something to either me or the blood. But then you came, and I was so happy and I felt fulfilled again. But still, I couldn't get rid of him," she said sadly.

"Did you, or the bloodline, make a pact with someone from the Order of the Phoenix or maybe Albus Dumbledore?" Harry asked, interested in this limitation binding his ancestral home.

"Yes. Your ancestor was a member of what would evolve into the Order. But he wouldn't give away my power would he?" She looked over at him with full, shimmering tears in her eyes.

"So you don't know if any pact was made?" Harry asked. The house-spirit shook her head.

"Maybe someone from the Order can explain it to us. And Josephine," Harry said softly, placing his hand on her shoulder, "I want Severus here, so he isn't a squatter. Okay?"

She nodded three slow nods, her eyes full of concern. "If you say so, Ma… Harry. I will trust in you." She leaned on him and he wrapped his arm around her, offering a magical construct all the support he could.

* * *

"What shall we learn today, sir?" Ginny asked. She perched on a high table in the laboratory, totally disregarding proper lab etiquette _and_ Severus' scowl.

"Tracking charms," he offered as he thinly sliced some tarragon root.

She shook her head. "We studied those pretty extensively. What else have you got?"

"Shielding spells?"

"Nah, I can shield a nuclear blast. Next."

"Absorption enchantments," he offered dully, measuring out the root to the exact milligram.

"Ooh, tell me about those." She seemed delighted.

"You can absorb curses, or for that matter beneficial spells, to add strength to your own curses in retaliation. You haven't studied these?" he asked, curious.

"A little; well not exactly. Sounds interesting!" She bounced off the counter and ran for the door, her red hair swimming through the hair in her wake. Severus shook his head as he added the roots to the softly bubbling cauldron. Bright magenta began swirling in the liqueur as he mixed.

Coming from the stairs, he heard a happy young woman yelling, "Hey everyone, Severus has something _new_ for us!"

He knew that very soon his lab would be full of his _students_ as eager to learn something new as puppies were for a pat. He set the flame under the cauldron to a lower heat and set a status charm on his ingredients. The potion would have to wait.

It dawned on him as he heard the chattering footsteps descending the stairs, that he put something of _his_ aside for _them_. Now he knew he was certainly out of sorts.

"Severus, we heard good news. So, tell us more about these Absorption charms." Hermione practically glowed and he noticed she was not clutching one of her soft bound novels full of unrealistic sentiment but instead a Muggle notebook and quill.

He conjured some chairs for them and they sat, their full attention on him like it'd never been during their stint as students at Hogwarts. Even Ron Weasley was showing respect. Harry leaned back, relaxed in his chair, a smile on his lips that made Severus' throat go dry. He liked those eyes on him. He liked it very much.

"As you are all combat hardened, I won't go into why Absorption enchantments are useful. If you know the spell or curse is coming, you can prepare and adsorb all the magical energy bound to that spell and use it in your own, therefore depleting your own magical well less readily than your enemy's." His hands were grasped behind his back and he paced the laboratory before them.

"Setting up the initial Absorption enchantment takes time. This is not a spontaneous shield or a fast burning hex. There is a full incantation you must recite and you need a clear mind to fully take in the magic without its initial intention coming to fruition. There is also the battle of magical wills… the original spell will not want to be destabilized. It will fight the enchantment, so if you are a weaker wizard it is not an advisable course. However, none of you are weak and I believe you can master this with far less effort that I would assume of any normal wizard or witch."

Ginny grinned and even Ron seemed pleased. Harry practically beamed. Severus began devising new ways to make him smile like that more often.

He continued with the lesson by explaining the theory behind the magic, which Hermione completely absorbed and immediately understood with a few 'ahs' and 'that makes so much sense.' She was frantically writing notes and happily humming to herself. The others seemed less inclined to focus as much on theory, so he explained to Hermione they could discuss more of the theory later and everyone sighed with relief.

Then he told them the incantation: "_mei sinus victum navitus a nutus_." His four students recited it a few times before they had the exact wording and inflection down. Severus remembered when he had learned this spell from a senior Death Eater. It had taken him almost three hours to assure he had that incantation exact. These truly were extraordinary students. Too bad they hadn't had this drive or knack back in school, he might have enjoyed teaching them then.

"Quiet." The stopped their recitation and gave him their attention. "Listen. Now, one at a time I will send a low level hex at you, you absorb the magic and curse me back with something equally benign. Understood?" They all nodded.

"Ginevra." He tilted his head towards her, his wand out and ready. She stood from her chair and settled into a battle stance reminiscent of jujitsu or other martial art, nodded at him and began to recite the long, Latin incantation.

"_Stupefy!"_ And a red bolt shot from his wand towards Ginny.

She swirled her wand and grabbed the bolt as if it were a lacrosse ball that Severus had just tossed to her. The red flashed and slowly faded, absorbing into Ginny's wand.

"_Stupefy!" _Ginny called,blasting him with an incredibly burly stunning spell, that crashed through Severus' expertly erected shielding charm and knocked him on his arse.

"Oh Sweet Merlin!" Ginny cried out and ran over to their professor. "Severus, are you okay?" The other three rushed towards Ginny and their fallen teacher as she shook his limp body repeatedly.

"Ginny! You didn't have to bowl the man over," Ron said.

"But I didn't mean to, I just sent a stunning spell at him equivalent to what he sent to me… just … Oh my! That absorption spell really works! I hardly put any effort into that and look how powerful my magic was." She beamed briefly before her gaze dropped back down to Severus, looking worried.

"_Eneverate_." Ron cast the invigorating spell on Severus and he began to stir.

"Severus?" Harry dropped to his knees next to Severus' side, gently stroking the man's hair away from his face. "You okay?"

Severus moaned and let his head lean into the soft caress. Then his situational circumstance refreshed itself in his bulldozed brain and he immediately stopped nuzzling Harry. With effort, he sat up holding onto his head.

"My, my Miss Weasley. You certainly grasped that spell quickly. Ten points to Gryffindor," he said automatically. The other three chuckled, relieved.

"Why don't you work with Ronald, Hermione and Harry on this and I will observe, safely… from a distance." He got to his feet on his own, accepting no aid from the others, and settled himself into one of the chairs. His temples throbbed.

He watched as they masterfully worked the Absorption enchantment on more intricate and dangerous spells until, to his surprise and almost horror, they started exchanging the Cruciatus Curse, absorbing it and then casting Imperius in response. The four were amazing, the way they worked together, their power level and understanding of magic. He had knowledge like theirs for Potions and he had no doubt he could dominate any of them in that field, but they had that level of knowledge in charms, curses, transfiguration and any other number of other magical families. There could be nobody like them in the world. Not even Voldemort could stand up to this tempest if it ever had the chance to unleash itself upon him.

And it was then that he knew they would win. If only they had the opportunity.

**END BIT 7**


	8. BIT 8

**BIT 8**

The room was stifling. He couldn't get any air and his covers were too heavy and the room was pitch black. Harry just couldn't sleep. After restless tossing and turning, completely ensnaring himself in his blankets, slumber was abandoned and instead he trudged through the halls on weary legs. Nothing helped, not the regal portraits, not the beautiful landscapes, not the views of L'Ombre Valley from the floor to ceiling windows that lined the grand rooms of Baden Manor. When his agitation remained after an hour of haunting the hallways, he returned to his room and let his mind distract itself with the new branch of magic that they'd learned that day. Well, mastered to be honest. Harry was a modest man, but he still accepted and understood the truth. It was something that each of them had taken to, like a Potter to a broom, and they were casting the spell quicker and quicker each round, dominating and controlling the magic with more finesse each time the curses were cast.

After they had grown bored with the 'attack' aspect of the spell, they worked on the 'support' aspect and cast other enchantments on each other just to lend magic to their allies, who then took the magical energy and converted it into another spell. Ron, ever the crafty one, took the magic and immediately turned it into healing energy that he surged throughout his body. Though none of them were injured, all of them thought it an excellent plan and practiced that for another few hours.

As Harry slipped back into bed, his thoughts lunged back to Severus like a wild hippogriff on a pack of ferrets, and how he'd studied them during their entire lesson, his face unreadable. Well, almost. Harry knew the man was impressed. There was something in his eyes. To someone less of a Severus Snape authority, those eyes might look hard as steel, but they had softened somehow; showed a little of what was underneath.

But more than that, Harry just knew the man was proud of him. It wasn't anything he read from eyes or posture, it was simply something he _knew_. It must be the joining, he thought, and he wondered what new facet would develop once he'd fed Severus one more time. Once they'd really made love.

Harry jerked upright at that thought, the covers slipping from his chest. Making love. That was something _totally_ different from sex. Did he think Severus wanted that from him? Wanted more than just sex and penetration and orgasm? Harry wasn't sure, but as he surveyed his own feelings he knew that there was something there, that he felt something more than simple lust.

But that wasn't entirely why he couldn't sleep tonight. He really needed to learn more about this bond, to decide what was _him_ and what was the blood, because his emotions and thoughts were shifting. _Things_ were happening to him. Very interesting and embarrassing things and after hours of tossing and turning, of his mind wandering into hidden corners he'd never wanted to face, he finally let his hand slink down into his pyjama pants and stroke himself. And with completion came sleep.

* * *

Severus remained in his chair, barely conscious in his meditative doze. He had fed from two people two times, but it was only one whose existence was tickling his senses tonight. The blood called to him, Harry called to him and he could feel the pull. There was recognition, something within him welcomed Harry. And he felt that Harry welcomed him in return.

He could sense the other man as he rose and walked through the halls in the early morning hours. He knew his tension and felt his discomfort.

As Harry returned to his room, Severus was with him, attached to every aspect of his being: his feet as they crossed the carpeting, is hand a it slipped through his hair, his mind when it turned to him, as easily recognizable as if someone had looked him right in the eye and he felt the edge of interest and the spark of pleasure as Harry worked himself over. Severus groaned at the sensation, pressing the heel of his hand against his groin that had awakened as his partial joining with Harry took form.

And as he felt Harry meet his orgasm, so too had Severus reached his own release, with only that firm pressure and those seeping sensations.

That night he slept; the first real sleep he'd slept in many months.

* * *

Harry was irritated. Ron was squirmy and this caused Harry's irritation, heightened it with each twitch, whine and invasion of his space. The man couldn't sit still. He would pace the halls, do sit-ups in the most unique place, such as the hall bathroom, or pushups on the dining table, and he would often followed Harry or one of the girls around, bored and wanting to be entertained.

When Ron had tagged after Harry as he went into the loo, it was too much.

It was time for another trip to the city.

"Really?" Ron bounced about like a kitten after a ball, gathering his things to take to the city, primping for the ladies, generally fraying everyone's last nerve. "We get to go back to civilization, and curry, and hot, eager women?

"My God, the man has been celibate for five days now. The horror. The horror," Ginny said dryly, not at all sympathetic.

"I wouldn't mind going back into town, I'm running out of books," Hermione said, looking at a book in her hand that she'd already read three times. A small pile of similar books was set next to the settee where she was lounging near the doors of the conservatory that lead to the back veranda. "The sex scenes are all the same, I need some new, fresh imagination. And what is with these penis euphemisms?"

Ron groaned. He hated it when Hermione talked about things like penises.

She sprawled out on the settee and took a deep breath. "Cock, dick and prick. Okay, I can work with those. Erection and hard-on work when said penis is in an excited state. But member? Why member? And what the fuck is up with manhood? I hate manhood. Rod of Steel. Meat of Pleasure. Fuckstick. None of those do it for me. They either make me wince in pain at the bad writing or I burst out laughing, and that's a far cry from meeting the purpose of smut novels. I don't want to read about someone inserting his power tool into her dark tunnel of mysteries. I want to read how he pounds her into the mattress with his raging cock and she screams 'harder' and 'more' and 'oh god yes.'" Hermione paused, the men looking aghast at her. Then she sighed. "Sometimes they just don't make smut right."

Harry and Ron shared a disturbed look between themselves, but Ginny brightened. "Well, Hermione. Why don't you write some porn?" She sat on a footstool, her Battle Bag resting on the tile floor to her right and another overnight bag, tiny in comparison, was slung over her shoulder.

"What? Really?" Hermione asked as she pushed herself up from her reclining position. She looked far too pleased by this suggestion. "You think I could?"

"Well I like to scream 'harder' and 'more' as much as the next gal. If you think you can create that, then why not?" Ginny said helpfully.

Harry did not want to hear this conversation.

"Say, you got a point there, sis," Ron said. "I like to make 'em scream and beg and yell out my name. Maybe we can combine our expertise and write this stuff together." Ron waggled his eyebrows at Hermione and smirked. "Maybe we can even do a little research for it, too."

Hermione grinned, but said in a stern tone, "Oh Ron, I've already had my way with you, you'll just have to look elsewhere to fulfill your odd little toe sucking fantasy."

"Hmm, toes." Ron sighed, then reached down for Hermione, hands lifted as if to grab her and drag her away to the closest bedroom. "Tasty toes. Tasty ears, tasty breasts… tasty…"

"Ron! Really… I don't want to hear this," Harry pleaded. Was he the only one with any sense of decorum here? "And I highly doubt the girls want to hear it, either."

Hermione, unfortunately, did have an eager look on his face, though Ginny generally looked bored.

"Fine… town. We are going to town." He would play the distraction tactic.

"Finally," Ron practically chirped. "We're staying the night, too. No arguments." The girls stood and the four headed out of the conservatory.

"Okay, but you get your own room. And I get the room with the two beautiful ladies." Harry tried to leer at Hermione and Ginny but they just giggled at him.

"Oh Harry, we are sure our virtue is safe with you."

Harry almost felt insulted. "What? I could ravage you?"

But then Ron asked, "What virtue?" and received a playful slap across his shoulder.

"Yes, Harry. Whatever you say," Ginny said and kissed him chastely on the cheek.

"What!" he yelled after her as she ran to inform Severus of their plans. "I could be totally vicious, Ginny!"

When the four left the house for the Apparition point, they linked arms together and practically skipped along under the bright sky and thriving forest, their laughter mingling with the twitters of the birds.

Not long after they left, a lone figure emerged from the forest and walked towards the entranceway, wings unfurling, charcoal feathers fluttering to the ground.

* * *

They rented two rooms from the same inn they stayed at during their last visit to town. Ron had his room two doors on the left from the slightly larger room Harry, Hermione and Ginny shared together. The girls enjoyed it because they knew Harry was generally harmless; they could cuddle on the bed while watching Muggle television and eat rich chocolates while drinking sweet wine knowing he wasn't going to make a move. They knew Ron wouldn't make a move on them either, but he just wasn't as comfortable and he talked way too much through the slower parts of the films.

There was a knock on their door and Ron walked in without any welcome. "Don't you lot look cozy?" Harry was sitting in the middle of the bed with a girl resting on each arm. Ginny's head was on his right shoulder and Hermione was leaning close to his left. Harry grinned from ear to ear.

Ron smiled back, which morphed into a completely malicious grin causing Harry to tense in anticipation and he was barely prepared before Ron landed on them. "Don't leave me out!" he said as he nuzzled his way in-between Harry and Hermione.

"Hey!" Hermione cried, smacking Ron on the head. "Don't needle-butt me off the bed, you get on the outside."

With a lip stuck out in an eerie impression of an eleven-year old Draco Malfoy when his mother forgot his weekly chocolate owl, Ron begged: "But Hermione. I want to be in the middle. I feel left out."

"Oh get off it, Ron, you're always in the middle. Let Hermione and Harry have the prime spots," Ginny grumbled at her brother, not even bothering to look at him, but choosing instead to burrow deeper into Harry, who continued to grin.

With a dramatic sigh, Ron slid on the other side of Hermione and cuddled her close, wrapping her in his arms and nestling his face into her neck. He breathed in deeply and sighed, causing Hermione to giggle.

"Is this the first of our research, Ron?" she asked. "Scent comparison?"

Ron perked his head up and looked at her with a lopsided smile. "It's a good preamble." And then he dove back down into her neck, nuzzling her.

"Maybe you two should get a room," Ginny suggested, turning up the volume on the telly with the remote. Ron turned to Hermione and cocked his head, eyes gesturing towards the door.

Hermione sighed. "Ron, I told you, for us to be together… I want to be _together_. No more randy goat impersonations. Finish with your wild oat harvest and then we'll talk, and much, much more," she said with a lecherous smirk that caused Ron's complexion to heat up, merging his freckles together. "And I've had lots of study."

Harry burst out laughing. "Hold up there, sex fiends; why don't we get out of here for a while, take Ron out to harvest more oats, get a few drinks and come back here later."

"Looking for that blond again, Harry?" Ron asked with a suggestive smirk. Harry went white.

"Oh… um. No," Harry said. He'd forgotten.

Ginny turned off the television and climbed off the bed, stretching like a cat. "Yeah, let's get out of here for a while. Harry, do you need us to run interference for you?"

"Ahhh. No?" Harry said, not sounding so sure, as he excavated his way out from the center of the bed. "I doubt he'll be there. Let's not worry about it. Ready, Hermione?" Harry held out a hand to his friend, who grabbed it and pulled herself up.

"Just one minute," said Hermione and she pulled out her wand. She aimed it at Harry, who stood motionless. Hermione's romantic side couldn't stand that they would go to any club wearing blue jeans and a jumper so she always insisted on dressing them up.

When the four left the room, they looked surprisingly put together. Ron wore leather trousers with a loose fitting shirt of a metallic blue with his hair slightly spikey. Ginny wore a short, pleated skirt and a tight, white top with a head of long red curls that bounced whenever she took a step. Harry was a mirror of Ron with looser trousers and a tight, netted top with black eyeliner and shaggy hair that still refused to be tamed. Hermione wore a longer black dress with her hair done up in a French twist and deep red lips. It was a rather arbitrary mix they showed off, but each person was supremely satisfied with his or her look.

The walk to the club wasn't too far and they were soon parked at a table with a round of drinks already put down.

"Entschuldigen Sie! Bitte noch 'ne Runde." Harry ordered another round and the waitress emerged from the cigarette smoke haze with four more shots of rum.

There was a nice beat to the music, but nobody graced the dance floor this early in the evening. However, Ginny, as well as the rest of them for that matter, cared less if nobody else was out there. "Come on my beautiful friends, let's dance!"

She grabbed Ron's hand and pulled him up. He stood, tossed back his shot, and went out to dance with his sister. Harry watched them for a while and then drank his rum, turned to Hermione and then they stood together to join their friends. They were all over the dance floor, sometimes leaping in some odd form of ballet and other times grinding up against each other in a sporadic orgy that earned them a hefty dose of attention from the locals. Then they would pull away, dancing alone with the music for a while, and then pair up again.

It was rare when the four could just be wild and let loose. They laughed aloud and soon more and more people joined them, the more adventurous ones partnering with one of the quartet.

Harry and Hermione waltzed to one of the slower songs, totally ignoring the actual beat and dancing to their own drummer. He would stop and twirl her and sometimes do a dip, which Hermione performed with a flourish--her arm tossed over her head, her back bent deeply as her head reached for the floor. Then the music started to dim, almost fade around the edges, and Harry looked up to see if they were having technical difficulties. Oddly, everybody kept dancing, drinking, talking; nobody seemed to notice. He twirled Hermione again as they automatically settled into a traveling box step, and he tried to concentrate on the odd feeling that started overwhelming his senses.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Hermione asked as she took lead and twirled him twice.

"Not sure… just…" There was something going on, something off. He started to feel nervous and his eyes darted around, certain there was someone there, watching, waiting. "I think… Do you feel anything, Hermione? I think there's danger."

"No, Harry, I don't." She stopped their dance and pulled him over to the sidelines, away from the busy dance floor. Ginny, who was dancing with a tall Austrian man, cocked her head at them, 'do you need me?' and Hermione shook her head, 'not yet.' "What do you feel?" she asked him once they had gotten out of the other dancers' way.

"Just distracted… It's almost like I forgot something incredibly important but I just can't remember." He looked around the club some more, but didn't see anyone or anything that set off his finely tuned sense of danger. He looked back to Hermione and shrugged, shaking his head. "I've no idea." And then he smiled. Hermione looked so beautiful, all flush and out of breath, and she was having so much fun. "Let's go back and if it gets worse or I figure out what it is, I'll let you know."

She smiled in return and asked if he was sure. He grabbed her hand and lugged her back out, assuring her all was well and then they started a tango.

A few songs later found them all at the bar, downing bottles of water and laughing aloud. "Ron, you are a Macarena Queen!" Ginny said laughing.

"Queen?" he looked aghast.

"Well, with a hip wiggle like that, and the gay population of this bar drooling all over you, I couldn't call you a king," she said with a wink.

Harry laughed hard and when he finally caught his breath he took another long swig, his previous anxiety vanished in their joy. Then a hand landed on his shoulder. He turned and saw Ed.

"Ed, hi. Wie geht's dir?" Harry asked.

"Good, Harry. I am good. How are you?" The man smiled at the gathering of witches and wizards, showing off his layers of dimples.

"Great," Harry said somewhat unenthusiastically. "Um," he turned his back to the newcomer and faced his friends, "this is Ed. Ed, this is Ron, Hermione and Ginny." He offered a strained smile and raised his shoulders in a 'what can I say' gesture, then turned back to Ed and plastered on a fake, good to see you, look.

"Would you…" Ed said, gesturing towards the dance floor. It was crowded and there weren't many other male couples out there.

"Sure, I'd love to dance." Harry handed his bottle of water to Ron and walked out to the dance floor with Ed possessively touching his back.

"So, they know?" Ed asked as he draped his arms loosely around Harry's neck. The song was slower than he liked. "That you're gay?"

"I'm bi, and yes, they know. They're my best friends." He shrugged as he danced against Ed, a little more stiffly than last time.

"Are they also studying the snail?" Ed asked. The music, though slow, was still loud and Ed had to lean close to Harry's ear to be heard. His breath tickled the fine hairs on Harry's neck.

"What?" he asked, wondering what Ed was talking about.

"The snail? The one you are studying?" Ed asked with a tilt to his head. What Harry had previously found cute seemed slightly cliché to him tonight.

"Oh… no. They just came to visit for a while," Harry mumbled. Ed nodded and smiled.

"You look really good tonight. I like your outfit," Ed said, his dimples popping out with his lecherous grin. Harry thanked him as they continued to move to the music, feeling awkward.

After a few dances, that distraction feeling was really … well, distracting, and Harry didn't want to lead Ed on anyway. He pulled away from the blond with an apologetic look on his face.

"What's wrong? You a… want to go back to my flat?" The eager look on the man's face caused Harry to flinch.

"Actually, I'm with my friends, so…" Harry shook his head. "Sorry." He stepped away and went to rejoin everyone, who had procured a table and had been sending him glances the entire time he'd been dancing with Ed.

Harry felt a hand grip his arm and he turned. "Yes?" he asked, his voice strained.

"Listen," Ed said, running his hand through his short hair, he accent growing thicker as he rushed his words at Harry. "I would like to hook up again before you leave town. Would that be possible?"

"Ah, maybe… I…"

"Harry!" Ginny tumbled into his arms. "We've been waiting for you; we're ready to go. Come with us. Come on." She was all over Harry, wrapping him up with her arms, rubbing her breasts against his chest, nuzzling up to his neck, kissing the corner of his lips. "Ron said he'd suck on Hermione's toes and I really want to watch and then maybe you and I could…" she made a vague gesture with her shoulders and head and smiled up at him.

"Um, okay. Let's go. See you, Ed." Harry offhandedly waved at the man, who stood there as if stricken, and turned away with Ginny wrapped around him. He leaned down to her ear, a movement that would look like a kiss to anyone watching, and whispered thanks as they walked up to the table, dodging drunk men and women as they lurched upon the dance floor.

"So, I hear we have some toe sucking to perform. Are we heading back?" Ron asked, a tall, Hispanic woman on his arm. Harry nodded.

They all left, Ron with his 'friend' in tow, and returned to their inn. Harry didn't even look back.

"See you in the morning," he waved at Ron and his lady, who was friendly and called Maria, as he retired to the other room.

"Damn," said Harry disappointedly after he, Hermione and Ginny had entered their room, all of their glamoured outfits shimmering away like the spray from a waterfall. "I thought we were going to get to watch toe sucking." He threw himself on the bed, sprawling out his arms and legs to take over the entire thing.

"I hope he remembers his Silencing Charm," Hermione said as she stripped down and headed for the shower. "You two should shower, too; you smell."

"Group shower!" Harry yelled, and shucked off his shirt, shoes and pants and rushed to the bathroom, racing Ginny who had almost beaten him in the stripping race.

However, as they made a complete mess of the bathroom, flooding the shower/tub contraption, spewing shampoo everywhere, Harry couldn't help shrug off that odd feeling. What was it he was forgetting?

* * *

Silence permeated the house, and it had been letting him be, so Severus tried to take solace in his new found privacy and blessed quiet.

As he busied himself cleaning his potions lab, those annoying bells echoed through the house, announcing visitors. The only visitor he had ever received was no longer welcome. Though he'd been researching it, he hadn't discovered anything on how to fight the veela's entrancement that turned him into a blubbering idiot, or at least tried to. Severus definitely didn't want to drink from that woman any more. Even the memory of her blood seemed bland.

So he kept himself occupied in the basement, just waiting for the foul angel of death to leave him be.

When the claxons finally stopped he breathed a sigh of relief, and then scowled that he'd actually hid from the woman.

He'd just finished washing his gold plated cauldron with a special rinse of dragon tears when he heard a sound. The house creaked, or a door opened… something shifted. The house that could remain completely silent if it wanted to had just made a noise.

He turned from his work and walked to the doorway, pressing his ear to it. "What is it, Josephine?" he asked quietly. A sound vibrated through the door. It happened again and again and Severus finally realized what he was hearing… very quiet footsteps. If the house hadn't amplified them for him, even the sharp hearing bestowed upon him by the vampire's curse might not have picked them up in time.

Indecision on the most prudent response to her entering the house—and why had the house _let_ her in?—consumed his thoughts. But after a few moments he could no longer hear the footsteps and he wondered why he even cared, because what was the point? Why did he need to run from the woman? It wasn't like she was going to harm him. And really, he would do anything for her. Maybe he should show her the new teleporting potion he was developing.

Then realization lanced his nerves, the feeling approximately like falling through the ice covering a frozen lake. Her power, subtle and insidious, was already destabilizing his will. He shook his head and flashed to the opposite side of the room. Small windows, too small for him to climb through, lined the wall near the ceiling and he kicked himself for not securing another entrance to the laboratory. Of course, he knew that if he had attempted to install another entrance the damned house would have just removed it. Permission was required of a magical construct like this to do any modifications—unless you were of the bloodline. He doubted Dumbledore himself could have done anything to this house without its consent.

Fuck. Severus paced the laboratory as it seemed to shrink in size, fighting with his considerable stubbornness not to fall into a retched state of acceptance.

Then it struck him. If the house could remove any doors, it could also make them.

He rushed to the farthest wall from the door and leaned up against the bricks to whisper into them. "Josephine… you have helped me once already. Please help me again. I need an exit from this place." The precious seconds burned away and the footsteps were now loud enough that he could hear them approaching with his own unaided ears. Why wasn't she working with him? Didn't the house realize that Severus was for Harry, not this veela?

That was not something Severus ever wanted to admit to himself and he scowled at the objectification he had just acknowledged.

However, it was true and he couldn't stay here as Serephia drew closer. She would certainly force him to feed from her again, and then he would join with her and potentially lose Harry forever.

He leaned his head against the wall, the stone cool against his forehead. He felt the urge to smack his head against the stones, perhaps knock himself into unconsciousness, but instead swallowed his pride. "Josephine. Please. Help me. She will take me from Harry." He continued to struggle against the siren's call that was subverting him further and further. He glanced up at one of the windows… Maybe he could push through it. If only he had a shrinking potion.

"Please." He splayed his hands out against this barrier to freedom, feeling the rough, ungiving grain of the bricks.

"I'm Harry's," he half sobbed, half pleaded. Then he sighed. All this stress over avoiding the veela wasn't doing him any good. Maybe he could just talk to her… and then in a fit of anger he slammed the palm of his hand onto the brick wall. It slid inward. His head shot up and he examined the wall. With little pressure it tilted in. He applied more pressure and a portion of the wall swiveled, leaving a crawl space large enough for him to enter. Hiking up his robes he placed a knee in the passageway, and then the other. It was roughly hewn and his knees hurt as they shuffled across the uneven surface, but it was nothing to him.

With his entire body crammed into the passage, he had to use his foot to close the wall behind him, submerging himself into pitch black. Memories, long dead, popped up of being locked in a box and buried alive without his wand. Voldemort was such a sick fuck. But Voldemort wasn't here and he did have his wand. He pulled it out and cast _Lumos_.

The passage was long and narrow. He grumbled at the condition of his escape route, but wouldn't dismiss this treasure that Josephine had given him. With his wand in his teeth he scrambled down the passage, all the while feeling less and less of Serephia's presence. He relaxed once he didn't have to fight her anymore.

The passage led him to another blank wall which he pushed open into the cool evening on the back veranda. Climbing out with casual ease, he stood and dusted off his clothing, examining a long tear in his robe before quickly mending it with a charm. He closed the brick wall that had swung out and it sealed, leaving no evidence that it had even existed. He patted the house and whispered "thank you" before running off into the evening, up the gap in the canyon walls, through the forest. Away.

He had no specific goal in mind, other than creating distance between him and that woman, and so with that complete lack of direction, he Apparated to town.

**END BIT 8**


	9. BIT 9

(this is a slightly edited version, go to my website to see the original)

**BIT 9**

Two people, a man and woman leaning into each other, passed Severus. The woman giggled as the man bent in for a kiss; they smelled strongly of cigarette smoke and martinis. Tail between his legs, a black and white dog slunk away from Severus, recognizing a larger predator. A garbage truck roared by, the exhaust leaving behind a cloud of noxious fumes. Nobody else crossed his path as he stalked up and down the alleys and darker roads to avoid the brightly lit zones where the majority of people settled. He had little interest in visiting the town in the past; other people only annoyed him. Why that veela was after him was a mystery, but he knew he would rather be here, wandering the unlit streets, than in that house. He felt less agitated, the tension in his muscles easing as he haunted the industrial section and warehouses.

His feet propelled him forward, alley by alley to more active streets, until his mind almost felt calm. It was a shock to him, this sense of peace. And then he heard the peals of laughter falling from a window above him.

"Harry, stop being a towel hog, damn it."

"What? They only gave us two; you don't expect me to stand here like a wet rat, do you?"

"Oh, for heaven's sake. _Exaresco_. There, quit your bitching and come to bed you two."

"Just a minute... There's something…"

Severus looked up as he heard a window scrape open.

"Severus?" Harry called down, surprised. "What're you doing here?"

"I'm not quite sure," Severus admitted in a dry tone. Harry leaned out of the window, bare-chested with damp hair.

"Well, come on up." He glanced over his shoulder. "Wait, I'll meet you down there."

"Harry, what's going on?" Ginny popped her head, wrapped up in an institutional white towel, out of the window, crammed in next to Harry. Something about that annoyed Severus, especially when he could tell she wasn't wearing a shirt. "Oh, hello Professor." Ginny waved at him like seeing her vampire ex-Professor standing outside her hotel window in the middle of the night was normal and common place.

Harry left the window and Severus continued to stare up at the red-headed woman, having nothing to say. "Well," she said, "you can stay up here if you'd like. We only have one bed, but I am sure we can make room for you." Her grin was too innocent to be honest.

Severus growled low, shocking himself. He cleared his throat and said, "That will not be necessary, Miss Weasley."

"Don't worry, sir. It's not like we're all having a tussle together or anything." The young woman had the audacity to smirk at him and then disappeared from the window and closed it.

"Severus?" He turned and there was Harry in the entrance to the little inn, propping the door open with his foot. "Come in; it's cold out." He'd pulled on some clothes, nothing appropriate for the night chill.

"The temperature does not bother me," he said, searching for something, anything to fill the air.

"Yeah, well it bothers me, so please, come in." Harry smiled as his shoulders quaked with a violent shiver and Severus walked towards him like a piece of iron to a magnet. As he drew nearer he could feel the gentle pull of Harry's blood, of their mostly formed joining and he growled again, but one of a much different intent.

He was only a few steps away when Harry's eyes popped open. "Merlin, was it you? Has everything been okay tonight?"

Severus stalled his forward approach and cocked an eyebrow. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, come on," Harry said crossly. "Why can't you just answer a straight up question?"

With a force of will, and admittedly habit, Severus stood still, waiting Harry out.

"Fine," Harry said, and Severus smirked. "I've been having this… feeling. An odd feeling all night. Like I forgot to turn the stove off or something. Something worrying." Harry stared at him with overly bright eyes. "And then, it was gone for a while. And then I felt something else nagging… and I looked out the window," he gestured towards Severus, "and there you were."

"Yes, something did happen tonight," Severus said simply.

"What?" Harry rushed towards him, letting the door loose and it clicked closed behind him as he took long strides to Severus. His arm reached out as if to touch him, but when he reached the man it held in mid air and then dropped back down to his side. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice hollow.

"Yes, Harry. I am fine." Severus continued to remain still, fighting against the ache to hold the man before him. He couldn't just give into this desire. He had always been a man of staunch self-control and he would not give in.

Harry shifted from foot to foot, looking agitated. His arms twitched by his sides and then he drew them up and crossed them across his chest covered by a thin, cotton T-shirt. "Please, come in."

Someone laughed down the street and then the sound faded as the people passed by. A breeze twirled dark leaves about in the air. "Are you cold?"

Harry shivered in reply and studied his shoes.

"Harry, there is something… Someone else who I have fed from—two times."

Released from its intense scrutiny of his shoes, Harry's head shot up and Severus was startled at the hard look in his eyes. "Who? Who was it?" Anger and anxiety. The words were full of anger and anxiety.

Shaking his head, Severus fought that urge to close the distance, to console Harry and tell him that it was nobody, nobody would ever come between them and then puncture that enticing skin one more time, just one more time and drink and drink and complete this thing between them that was a nagging itch, and he didn't know if he could hold out any longer and then arms… He felt arms wrap around him and hold him and the nagging lessened and the tension evaporated from his body as he wrapped his own arms around the smaller man in return.

He swore he heard a soft cheering from above, but couldn't be arsed to look up. Not with Harry in his arms.

"Merlin, you feel good." Harry sounded like he'd admitted stealing from Severus' private ingredient stores. "So good. I don't know what to do."

Severus leaned down to burrow his nose in Harry's hair and heard the younger man groan. He tilted his head, opening the arch of his neck to Severus and pressed his body up against him.

A trap, like a trick to take his body, mind and soul and Severus was eager to be caught. He had his Harry in his arms, his rich scent filling his nostrils, his body plastered against his own. Then by gravity their lips found each other, and that one touch, that one simple connection exploded every spark of life in Severus' veins. Soft moans filled his ears and the rest of the world faded away until he felt a tap on his shoulder.

Immediately, he pulled away and turned on the intruder, teeth bared, claws elongated, placing himself between Harry and whatever danger had arrived.

"Whoa there, Severus." Hermione stood back, arms held up in an 'I surrender' pose, wand held loosely in her right hand. "Ginny and I were going for a walk, why don't you two take the room." She tossed an oversized key to Severus and his hand blurred as he reached for it, catching it like a racing snitch.

It took a few deep breaths for Severus to wrap his control around him once again, and he nodded at Hermione. He could feel Harry behind him, his warmth, his smell, and his blood, all screaming his pure presence to the vampire. With his left hand he reached back, still facing the girls, and felt Harry grasp it tightly. The touch soothed his agitation even as it excited him in other more frustrating ways. They turned away from the intruders and with Harry by his side they entered the small inn.

The scent of Harry's passage laid before him a practically visible trail for Severus to follow. Trying to unlock the door proved to be an entirely different matter. His hands shook uncontrollably; there was an eager zing to the air and he couldn't wait to get into the room, couldn't wait to complete this thing they'd started.

"Here, let me." Harry took the key and opened the lock easily. The door swung open on well-greased hinges; Harry walked in, followed by Severus, who pushed the door closed. Finally, turned to look at each other.

The vivid green of Harry's eyes glowed in the low light; his lips parted invitingly while his chest rose with shallow, quick breaths. With a flash the two men collided as they reached for each other. Lips pressed hard, tongues performing fevered, needy choreography. Tasting Harry sent Severus into a demanding frenzy, robbing speech and replacing it with the primal voice of need.

"Merlin, Severus. Fuck. _Yess_. I want this…you. _Please_. " The words raced out of Harry's mouth as Severus moved from his lips to bite at his ear; keeping his nips gentle took most of Severus' internal mettle. Tongue and teeth journeyed lower to that sweetest of pressure points and there Severus licked.

A shiver traveled up Harry's body, inch by inch, nerve by nerve. Severus wanted this. _This_ would complete him. Harry would complete him and no matter how much his logical mind argued that this was _Potter_, the son of his _nemesis_, what the hell was he _thinking_, he knew that this was where he belonged.

The pressure of his fangs tingled and at a sluggish pace they elongated, digging into his lip. Opening his mouth wide he positioned his teeth right over the large artery and for the third time he bit and the blood bubbled from that blessed well and flowed sweetly onto his tongue.

"Ohh…" Harry moaned, grinding his erection that hadn't wilted a bit at the pain into Severus' thigh. Severus leaned closer, bending Harry back like a strung bow, dominating and possessing him. Harry's breath puffed in quick pants, brushing Severus' hair at each exhale, causing him to shiver as he drank the warm vitae.

As Severus consumed Harry's blood, as it mingled with every cell of his undead body, molten energy flushed through their bodies, burning, and the world ceased its own insignificant existence. Severus drank and drank, succumbing to something ageless, urged on by the shameless sounds escaping from Harry's lips.

Joining with that raging inferno, relief flooded him, like a two tonne stone had been lifted from his back, and strongest of all was a sense of completion. His hunger receded and he suckled no more, retracting his teeth and then licking at the wound with long sensuous strokes, enticing even more moans from the younger man in his arms.

"Severus, I … I want… "

"Yes, Harry? Whatever it is…" He knew exactly what it was Harry wanted, whose desire was as manifest in Severus as it had to have been in Harry. Instinctively, he pulled back to remove Harry's shirt and Harry scrambled to undo the many buttons on Severus' own. Their undressing was frantic and needy, reminiscent of their previous time together, but still full of equally demanding grace. Trousers hit the floor, then pants and the two men were finally stripped bare. To Severus the sight was heaven, far more beautiful and enrapturing than the veela could ever be.

They stood for a moment, locked in mixed want and uncertain caution, a discordant melody. Finally, Harry stepped forward, arms reaching out and gently brushing up Severus' arms, caressing his biceps, barely ghosting over the Dark Mark.

"It's been a long…" Harry started to speak and Severus felt his fear.

With a calming hand, Severus petted Harry's hair, feeling its thick, yet soft texture. "It's okay; I won't hurt you." He pulled Harry to him again, their bodies melding into each other by his possessive grip. Every inch of skin that touched skin sang with pleasure and delight. Waves of emotions caressed Severus' mind and he knew that finally they were joined, and that it was right and good and he would never have had it any other way.

Harry leaned in and nuzzled Severus' shoulder with his cheek. The gesture caught Severus off guard. "I know you won't hurt me, just… go slow, please?" He looked back up and the two men kissed again, this time slower, full of gentleness and devotion. A kiss like nothing Severus had ever encountered in his life of hard lessons and brutal terms.

Walking backwards towards the bed, Harry's legs hit the edge and he plopped down on the mattress, bouncing with the bedsprings, and Severus tumbled after him, eager to continue the kiss. A chuckle erupted from Harry's chest and Severus propped himself up with his arms and looked down at the younger wizard, somehow fresh and new, at his slightly tanned chest and pale skin normally hidden below shorts, at the red, throbbing head of his cock. His crooked grin showed delight and approval as he leaned back down and devoured the man's right nipple.

"Ahh…" Harry moaned, writhing against Severus, seeking more connection of one body to the other. Severus toyed with the hard nub, licking and nipping at it, then trailed a line of kisses to the other, administering the same focused attention as he had done to the first. Soft moans and groans urged Severus on, while the hisses pushed Severus over the edge, and raw pleas begged for completion. If they'd done this before he had fed, he knew control would have been rare and fleeting, evaporating under the blaze of their need.

Harry's hands were buried in Severus' hair, pulling and pushing, driving to some sort of movement even as his body lay prone beneath the vampire's. Severus left the nipples and drew the tip of his tongue down the center of the man's chest to his navel and licked deep, then pulled back leaving tiny bite marks along the expanse of skin, sucking up little red bruises.

Harry's blunt prick jabbed at his chin, demanding attention, as his tongue circled Harry's bellybutton. "_Please_…" And how could Severus deny something so plaintive, deny the will of his bond mate?

He took Harry full into his mouth, the flavor and texture familiar, yet so new and exciting. He teased and sucked and devoured the warmth; swallowing Harry down to his root, gently rolling his bollocks around in his right hand while teasing his hole with the other. He pulled away from Harry's erection and cast as lubrication charm, filling Harry with warmth and easing the passage of his finger.

Harry made an odd noise and squirmed. "Harry, are you all right?" Severus' words were strained as he halted his progress when all he wanted to do was plunge in, feel that tight warmth. He sensed that the other man was nervous, yet he also felt an overwhelming sense of trust as well, and something he couldn't quite name, but it was warm and comfortable and caused his stomach to clench.

"Yes," he said shakily. "Just… slow… please. I want this, but I've… only done this once and… I didn't…"

A spike of anger surged through Severus at the thought of Harry with anyone other than him. Determinably, he forced the image away. Now was not the time for instinctive reactions. "I know, Harry. I'll be careful."

Slowly he began moving his finger, gently and rhythmically as he continued to suck on Harry, pulling moans out of him and pleas for more and 'yes' and 'oh god right there!'

Severus caressed that magnificent spot deep inside Harry, rubbed the nub that encouraged such pleasure.

Harry was tight and his heat was driving Severus mad with want, he ached at the thought of burying himself in deep. He could tell Harry was close, but just to make sure he would hurt Harry as little as possible, he took more time in stretching him.

Finally, when he felt Harry was ready, he stood on the edge of the bed and pulled him closer, positioning him at the best angle.

"Ready?" Severus asked through clenched teeth. Harry nodded eagerly, eyes glazed over.

Severus leaned over, pulling Harry's legs up, crushing them between their two bodies. He brushed against Harry's entrance, ready to lung like a horse out of the starting blocks, but Severus took it slow. "Press back to me, Harry. _Oh Merlin yes_… like that," he said breathlessly as Harry pushed back and Severus slowly pressed past that tight ring of muscle.

"God, you feel so…" Severus couldn't find the words. They stayed in that position until Harry relaxed, getting accustomed to the new fullness and he finally nodded, his eyes bright, his features sharp with pleasure.

With deliberate slowness, Severus slid out and pressed back in. Harry moaned, his head thrown back in desire. "Please, Severus… more… I want to feel you, more…."

Severus pulled back out and plunged in, completely sheathing himself; slap and moan filled the air as their bodies collided in unison. "Merlin. Fuck!" Severus could tell that Harry was hurting, his muscles unaccustomed to Severus' thickness, but he could also feel that Harry wanted this, desired this and the feedback of his pleasure increased Severus' own ten fold.

Harry arched his back, tilting his hips to meet with Severus on every thrust. But Severus wanted more. He shifted farther forward, his hair falling to veil his face, and pulled Harry's legs up over his shoulders and thrust again. "Gah!" Harry cried as Severus hit his prostate. And there was little else Severus could do as their dual pleasure engulfed him and took them closer over the precipice of desire.

Leaning on one arm, he brought the other hand down and grasped Harry, warm and heavy and just _aching_ for attention. Thrust, tug, thrust tug, thrusttugthrusttug and Harry screamed out. No defenses in Severus' psyche could stop him from following Harry into that abyss and as he pumped out his own fluid he felt something inside of him slide into place and he knew that now they were truly, finally joined.

He collapsed on top of Harry, still panting in his afterglow.

"Harry," Severus said softly, petting Harry's sweaty hair out of his eyes. Harry turned his head to peer over at him, looking thoroughly shagged, tired and glassy eyed, and then he smiled. It was brilliant.

Severus pulled out and relaxed into his embrace, snuggling close.

"That was…" Harry said breathlessly.

"Indeed," Severus replied with a chuckle and wrapped his arms around Harry's middle.

Harry's soft laugh joined Severus' and sleep soon took them over.

* * *

"Should we wake them?"

"That would be a bit rude, don't you think?"

"Well, how about cover them up, I mean, they have got to be cold, just sprawled out like that. And would you look at that, who knew Severus was so well…"

"Yes, Ginny, I can see that. Yes, let's cover them up. And where do you want to sleep? We could head back to the manor, but I don't feel like walking through the forest in the dark."

"Well, it's almost morning; there will be light enough to see soon. Maybe we can see if Ron isn't busy 'till then."

"Ron? Not busy?" Hermione huffed. "I'd rather sleep with these two."

"They are kind of cute, aren't they?" Ginny giggled quietly. "They fit."

"Yes, they do," said Hermione, warmth softening her words. "They look so content. I haven't seen Harry look that relaxed in far too many years."

Ginny grinned at Hermione and grabbed her arm. "Let's go home." Hermione nodded and followed her friend out. Harry grinned as he heard the door close and buried his nose deeper into Severus' shoulder.

* * *

"Come on Severus, work with me here." Harry had Severus' arm thrown over his shoulders and was dragging the man through the forest, which was an interesting feat since Severus had quite a few inches on him. Severus only grumbled, forcing one foot in front of the other as tree branches poked his face and arms. The sun had made the vampire lethargic and they had to stumble through the forest together from the Apparition point.

Ron hadn't answered his knock so Harry had slipped him a note under the door letting him know they had gone home, and Harry knew that the girls had returned earlier.

Finally, after thirteen stumbles, two outright falls and uncountable scratches, they arrived at the great iron gates. A black, iron lion looked down upon him from the top of the gate and growled a greeting.

The walk up the cobbled entry was as easy as a first year potion compared to that through the overgrown forest. They arrived at the door, which opened up for them before Harry even reached out for the door handle. Josephine awaited them, glowing brilliantly.

"Welcome home!" She beamed at Harry, but as her gaze shifted to the vampire he supported, it turned into annoyance.

"You had a visitor, Harry," she said after she returned her gaze back to Harry. "Well, Severus had a visitor." She smirked back at Severus.

Curious, Harry looked over to Severus, who struggled to stand on his own, his face stern. "Really, Severus? Who was it? Someone from the Order?" Who else would it be? Who else knew they were there?

"Yes," Severus said, but didn't meet Harry's eyes. "Another Sentinel." However, Harry could tell there was more. Ever since they completed their blood joining, he could _feel_ Severus, his emotions, his concerns, his joys, even if his visage remained blank.

"Is there something wrong?" Harry asked, placing his hand on Severus' arm. He grew worried; he didn't like the thought of Severus retreating into himself.

"Hey there, welcome back!" Ginny bounced down the staircase, her ponytail bobbing with each step. "You boys have a good night?" She winked at them. Harry grinned back and Severus looked studiously away, his pale skin growing flush.

"Believe it," Harry said, tabling Severus' withholding from him until that evening. "But right now, I think I need a shower and Severus here needs a nap." Harry leaned over and kissed Severus gently on the lips, earning a squeak from Josephine and a squeal from Ginny, both high pitched but conveying entirely different messages.

He helped Severus to the drawing room then retired to his own room and stripped down. His reflection in the mirror showed his firm shape and motley tan. Right at the base of his neck were puncture marks, faint, but visible. His hand reached up and he ghosted fingers across the tender wound and felt a tingle shiver down his spine and his cock stir slightly.

Merlin, he had never felt anything like what he was feeling right now. Was it the blood joining that created this feeling of… belonging? Or was it something more _real_, something that was just them, having nothing to do with blood and prophecy?

**END BIT 9**


	10. BIT 10

A/N this chapter has been edited a bit for this website. Original at my website.

**BIT 10**

That evening, the five of them surrounded the intimate dinner table in a nook just off the kitchen. It had taken monumental coaxing—the promise of many blow jobs and nights full of wild sex—for Harry to convince Severus to join them. Harry seemed to have lost all inhibitions when it came to Severus and he took more than a small measure of delight at that. Still, Severus was unsure how he fit into their tight-knit group and was more than a little self-conscious knowing that Harry's friends were privy to their private affairs. He had always been a private person, but after reviewing his last ten years in solitude, he acknowledged he'd grown weary of isolation.

"Harry, pass the rolls, mate," Ron said as he piled his plate high with scoops of Josephine's mashed yams. Harry grabbed a roll and tossed it to Ron, gently arching over the flower arrangement set in the center of the table.

"Harry! Your manners are atrocious. You would think you were raised in a cupboard or something," Hermione scolded, passing a plate of carrots to him.

Severus stiffened. He had heard rumors about Harry's upbringing, all of the staff had. How could one of his closest friends bring up his traumatic childhood so disrespectfully? But Harry grinned at her and tossed a roll, which she deftly caught out of the air just as it brushed against the bent head of a pink carnation.

"Me, Harry," Ginny urged, butter knife in one hand ready to butter her roll. Harry threw her one and finally he turned to Severus.

He held up a dinner roll. "Roll?" he asked, his head tilted, eyes glinting with amusement. Severus laughed, and then quickly coughed to cover up the slip. He was unsure if he would ever understand their dynamics, but Harry loved them, and Severus was warmed by the feeling that this man, his _mate_, hadn't been alone these last ten years.

"No, thank you, Harry," Severus said.

"Maybe I can offer you something more…palatable later tonight," Harry said with a leer.

My God. Was Harry Potter trying to flirt with him? With witnesses?

He grew uncomfortably hot and realized every set of eyes was on him, even that of Madam Dreumora from her portrait over Ron's head, peering at him through a pair of opera glasses.

"Who knew a vampire could blush?" asked Ginny, delightedly.

Eventually, they all returned to their dinner as Severus refused to be baited by either Ginny's taunt or Harry's flirting. As the crowd ate, Severus merely sipped a glass of wine. His body did nothing with it, but at least the crystal glass kept his hands occupied. Unfortunately, he almost spewed the wine over the arranged carnations and fern fronds when he felt a very inquisitive toe nudge his calf.

He scooted his legs away from the intrusive limb, twisting his body slightly to the right.

Harry leaned forward for the pitcher of juice, filled his glass, asked if anyone else needed a refill and after the young man had placed it back down on the table, Severus realized Harry had edged closer to him. This time he felt a hand on his thigh.

Severus jumped, releasing a shamefully girly squawk. Ron, Hermione and Ginny stared at him like he'd just leapt from his chair announcing his support of Divinations as a most regal area of study. Harry was the only one not looking at him, very pointedly not looking at him.

"If you will excuse me," Severus said, rising. He couldn't endure such torment when all he wanted was to bend Harry over the dining table and sink both teeth and cock right into him.

"Severus, I'm sorry," Harry said, reaching out to grab Severus' arm. "Please stay, I promise to keep my hands to myself," he said sheepishly.

"And feet," Severus ordered sardonically.

"Damn! Okay, I promise that, too. All bodily appendages I shall keep to myself. Unless you need them later." Harry looked up at him through his thick eyelashes and black fringe and Severus' heart danced that single beat again.

Ron practically choked on a mouthful of yams. "Oi. Harry, we're eating. Please mate, not while I'm eating," he begged.

Though the girls erupted in laughter, Severus returned to his seat, his iron-strong demeanor no longer weakening under one wily Potter's attack.

Then claxons split the air and Severus could feel dread trickle up his spine.

The others shared shocked looks of cluelessness. "Harry," came the soft voice of the house-spirit.

"Yes, Josephine?" he asked after he'd swallowed his bite of beef, wiping the corners of his lips with a silken napkin as he stood.

"You have visitors. They seek an audience with all of you, including Mr. Snape." Josephine cast a disgusted look at Severus. "I have placed them in the receiving room, sir."

They?

"Thank you, Josephine. Can you tell me who it is?"

"Yes. They are Mr. Seamus Finnigan and Mr. Kingsley Shacklebolt."

"Seamus and Kingsley!" Ron exclaimed, jumping up from the table.

"The Order? They're here to talk to us. Maybe give us some new intel." Hermione also sprang from her chair and the two ran from the room, soon followed by Ginny, who had begun humming a perky tune.

"Shall we, Severus?" Harry asked as he waited next to the table.

He stood, but had no words. Was this it? Was this the end? The waiting was all over?

They arrived at the receiving room as loud questions and fierce hugs were passed around. "Is there news of Voldemort?" "How's the Order back in England?" "Are my mum and dad doing well?" "We found the best instructor we could have asked for."

"Oh really, who is that?" Kingsley asked with a broad grin. He now had a gold tooth that glinted brightly in the light of the candles, matching the hoop in his ear.

"Why, Professor Snape of course," said Harry as he and Severus entered the room. "Kingsley, Seamus, it's amazing to see you. Why are you here? Not that we aren't excited to have you, of course." The five stared at the newcomers with held breath, waiting for the worst, hoping for the best.

Kingsley smiled at them all; he hadn't even faltered when he saw Severus, just seemed surprised and pleased. "Severus, there you are. We thought you'd been killed when we hadn't heard from you."

Severus drew his eyebrows together and fixed the jaunty man with an angry stare. "Hadn't heard from me? I had not heard from you for five years. I was under the assumption that you had cut ties from me due to my…condition."

"Condition? Why, what's wrong?" Kingsley asked. "Are you ill?"

Harry looked at Severus and so did the other three fourths of the Potter Team, unwilling to speak for their… companion. Friend maybe.

Severus stepped away from Harry's side to pace the small room, his hands clenched together behind him, head hanging forward, hiding his features behind a veil of black hair. He always felt more calm in movement.

"When I first arrived at this post ten years ago, I was irate." Kingsley chuckled at the obvious understatement. "The Order shuffled me to this cursed corner of the world. I spent years here in this desolate hellhole, with sporadic contact from the Order, just to 'keep my ears and eyes open.' As if anything would happen out here." He paused, glancing up briefly at the swords and lances organized in a spiraling pattern on the far wall, then lowered his head once more. "I had tried to make contact with other Sentinels and other individuals who might be in the line of rumor, or even some Voldemort supporters or those who had followed that pureblood right political crap. But as I said, this place is a hole. There isn't anybody here. No other ex-Death Eaters or dark wizards, no dark creatures. None of that. The biggest draw to this area was this Manor, which the Order had set me up in."

He paused to look from Kingsley to Harry, both focused on the confession of his private failings. He began walking again, back and forth, from the wall of sharp edges to the ungiving brick of the fireplace. He felt trapped, like one of those mochits locked away in a magically warded gilt cage. A set of windows, floor-to-ceiling, lined the wall. "Which—Kingsley, you might find this amusing—is a magical house bound to the bloodline of Gryffindor. Oh, this damned House loves that I'm here," he said with a sneer, "and informs me of such on a daily basis. Or she did…" he stopped for a minute, his pacing and his words. Then he stood up straighter, his back to the assemblage as he studied the cold, purple evening beyond the window panes and continued his speech.

"So I left the area. I expanded my searches going into the less Muggle inhabited east. I started to hear rumors, which I passed onto the Order, but got no word back from you." He swiveled around and glared at Kingsley. "There was a dark aura that had taken up residence in a tiny hamlet in the Alps. I investigated; it could have been Voldemort or one of his supporters. Well, it wasn't." Severus stopped for a breath and looked at the rapt, attentive eyes all glued on him. He hadn't told anyone this, not even Harry. Harry offered him a reassuring smile when he looked at the younger man and he could feel Harry's support and pride through their bond. To hell with him and his friendly gestures. Severus swallowed.

"I confronted the creature that was emitting the dark aura. I found it attacking villagers, freely and unrestrained. It had little humanity left…

"Of course I did what I could. But the speed of these things. I hadn't fought a vampire prior to my encounter with it and was admittedly unprepared and out of practice. It took me." There. It was said.

Kingsley's eyebrows drew together, but he said nothing. Seamus looked confused.

"To this day I don't know why it didn't kill me. It is still out there. When I awoke, I was what I am now… My blood tainted and body twisted." He ground the words out between his teeth, hating this moment of sharing his secrets, his shame. "I retreated to this manor to recover. I couldn't…" _I couldn't perform magic._ He shook his head, his long hair swaying with the gesture. "I was at a loss for what to do with who I had become." He had lived his life in the dark for so long and he had eventually become that darkness. He could no longer atone for his past sins.

Severus examined the individuals in the room, witnessing the horror he saw in Seamus Finnigan's eyes as realization finally sunk in through his dim, over-taxed brain and the concern knitting the brow of Kingsley. Would they still trust him?

"But," blurted out Harry, "we've been here for weeks now and Severus hasn't done anything to harm us. In fact, he's been helping us improve our skills for when we eventually find that bastard." Severus noted Harry said nothing about Ginny's prophecy.

"So," Kingsley said after a moment of silence. "You've been waiting here for the past ten years as Sentinel, most of those years without any contact from us and living with… what, the vampiric curse?"

Severus nodded sharply. "I have actually been in recent contact with another Sentinel who had located me here." Severus felt inclined to add.

Kingsley looked surprised, his eyebrows crawling up his bald forehead. "Really? We hadn't heard anything from any operatives. Of course the system doesn't always work. Many agents have been lost. Floo connections dying, owls not delivering. When we visit a location our agent can't be found. We looked for you, Severus. When we got word that Harry was here and studying under you, we didn't know how to take the news. So we decided on a visit. I myself had searched for you a few times and I couldn't find this place. This time I had no problem." He lifted his shoulder in a bear-like shrug.

Severus stood silent for a moment, as still as an oak on a windless day. Finally, he nodded. "A full veela by the name of Serephia visited recently," he said, trying to work out why the Sentinel hadn't reported his presence to the Order. He felt an 'oh shite' reaction brewing as the clues began to take shape before his eyes.

The quartet looked curiously at Severus, Harry a bit more curiously than the others.

"Serephia? A veela? She's not a Sentinel. Not that I'm aware of," Seamus said, looking to Kingsley for confirmation.

Kingsley shook his head. "I haven't heard that name, either," he said.

The warning bells and red flags that had been nagging Severus for the past few weeks were in full parade now. Sadly, he realized he wasn't all that shocked. "Hmm, interesting. I wonder who she works for, then." Though he wasn't really wondering that hard at all.

"So…" Harry asked with forced nonchalance, taking a few steps towards Severus. "A veela's been _visiting_ you?"

Kingsley looked over at Harry, then back at Severus, from concern to a mildly abashed expression that looked alien on Severus's face. His frown deepened as he watched the two.

Turning to Harry, Severus said, "Yes, she has visited this house three times. The last time I avoided her presence. That was the night I met you in town."

"Our third?" Harry asked.

Severus nodded.

Harry's eyes never left his. "Did you…drink…from her?"

"Oh, Merlin's beard, don't tell me you're a fecking blood bag for Severus 'The Vampire' Snape? Are you barking at the moon, Harry?" Seamus exclaimed. "And what, you're worried he's been sucking blood from someone else? Morgana's tit Harry, how far have you fallen?"

"Shut your trap, Seamus," Ron scolded their old dorm mate, taking a menacing step towards him.

"Yes," Severus said to Harry, ignoring the interruption. "Twice. She tried to get me to feed from her a third time, but… Josephine helped me escape her. The first time I was so starved I had no resistance to it. The second, I remembered the taste of blood and gave in." Holding Harry's eyes became a trial. "Gave in far too easily." He searched Harry's face, seeking something to ease his shame, needing reassurances only Harry could give him. "And then I realized she was charming me. I fled to avoid her spell on her third visit and came to you that night."

"But she can still… It'll only take one more time and you'll join with her." Understanding and a hint of frustration tinted Harry's face, the lift of his eyebrow, the down turned corner of his mouth. "'Cause, you can join with more than one," he said softly.

With two long strides, Severus crossed the room to Harry and gripped his forearms. "I will do everything in my power to avoid that, Harry. Know this as fact." The words felt heavy, like a vow.

Harry nodded even while Seamus made gagging noises and Ron continued to tell him off.

"So, let me get this straight," Kingsley said over the racket of the argument. "Severus is a vampire. Harry's been feeding him blood. Somehow they have become… attached? And a veela has been visiting, claiming to be a Sentinel and feeding Severus as well."

"Yep," chimed in Hermione. "So, now that that is all clear, why don't you tell us what is going on with the search for Voldemort. Please!"

She pulled up a French design, high backed chair and flopped in it, legs sprawled in uncouth mimicry of an old west harlot. Ginny walked over and sat at Hermione's feet. The two looked up at Kingsley like a pair of Siamese cats waiting for their bowls of milk. Hermione petted Ginny's ginger hair, twining long strands around her fingers. The man seemed to have problems absorbing just how curious the entire situation was.

"Okay…" he drawled. "And you two…? Oh, never mind. I have some good news for everyone."

"What? You found him?" Harry practically lunged at Kingsley.

"Well, no. We haven't heard anything solid about him since his disappearance ten years ago. I am here to call you all back to London. Time for you to hang up your wand belts and settle down like I know you all want to." He said this like he offered them the winning national lottery ticket, no strings attached.

The excited glaze that had lit all of their eyes faded at the news, replaced by looks of sheer disbelief and loss. "No news of Voldemort," Hermione said sadly. She looked down at Ginny. "Gin, do you get any… feeling or idea that he's dead or anything?"

Kingsley continued to watch them and their inexplicable reactions and Severus didn't blame the man for looking lost. "Do you know something, Ginny?" Kingsley asked.

Ginny was looking up at Hermione. "Other than what I already told you… But I just haven't ever gotten the sense that he's dead. Especially concerning the latest development." She gestured over at Harry and Severus who were standing close together.

"Sorry, Kingsley," came Ron's strong voice. "As much as we all want to just go home and be done with this, we can't leave Harry. Harry won't step down until Voldemort is dead. He has his prophecy, but he also has us. We won't abandon him. So here we are, where we've always been, biding our time, training, waiting," he said, stepping closer to Harry's other side.

"But we haven't found out anything about Voldemort, Ron," Kingsley said. "Certainly you want to go back home, maybe try out for Auror training or work for your father, something other than traveling across continents chasing ghosts. He isn't out there. If he is, he's gone so far into hiding it may take decades for him to resurface and you don't want to spend the rest of your life as wanderers, do you?" He was pleading with them, and Severus couldn't help but hate the man for trying to take Harry, and the others, away from him.

At these words the four looked at each other. Finally, Harry took a deep breath. "He's right. You should go back. Hermione, I know you've wanted to try your hand at either research or writing pornography, depending on your mood that day. Ginny, you don't belong out here in these long forgotten places. I know you want to go back and be with your family and fall in love and have your own. And Ron, I know you've always wanted to be an Auror, or a Quidditch star, and you aren't getting any younger." He chuckled, but nobody joined him and the laughter died with his next breath. "Go on, go home." He limply tossed out his hand, like he was shooing them away, but it was half-hearted and completely ineffectual.

Ginny started laughing. "Fall in love and start a family? God, Harry, when will you get a clue? I love you, and Hermione and Ron. You three _are_ my family. I will follow you, great Captain, to the ends of the earth until the final days on this quest. We all will. So stop being stupid." She threw a beige chintz pillow at him, which hit him in the chest and rebounded to the floor.

For a moment, Harry looked dazed, unspeaking, and he roughly wiped at his eyes. "Well," he finally said, "what do you want to do? Stay here and train with Severus? Travel again, looking for any news we can find?"

"I think that veela is the key," Severus interrupted. "I think we need to sit that woman down and have a nice, informative interrogation session."

"Okay, so now we need veela bait?" Seamus asked incredulously.

"I do believe I would suffice as such bait. However, she seems to know when there are others in the house, so you would have to vacate until she shows."

"I don't like it," Harry practically growled, taking Kingsley and Seamus by surprise. "I don't want to leave you here, alone, where she can get at you." He closed the distance and grabbed bunches of Severus' shirt in each fist and pulled the vampire close against him. Severus was startled to see the possessive spark in those deep green eyes and he growled in return.

The emotions surging over the bond exploded across Severus' skin, through his muscles and bones and heart. He leaned down to capture those lips, soft and open, to swallow this man whole, to take…

"Okay, boys," Hermione interrupted, jumping to her feet. She wrapped her arms around them, turning them away from the speechless Aurors. "Why don't you go … umm, talk it over and we can entertain our guests. Okay? Bye." She pushed them towards the open door. In a quieter voice she murmured, "Not that I mind watching, but it might scare the straight boys."

They left without further urging.

* * *

"Severus," Harry said through windows in their heated kisses. "The idea of that woman…" he growled and bit Severus on the neck, just as Severus had earlier, "touching you…" he ripped off Severus' shirt, splitting it right down the seam, casting it to the floor, "drives me mad." He finished speaking and pushed the taller man to the bed to strip off his trousers and then engulfed Severus' erection in one gulp.

He sucked frantically, the gasping man racing towards orgasm with the force of a locomotive. Harry repeatedly swallowed him deep, but then, unceremoniously, let him free of his mouth; the chill of the cool forced out a gasp.

"Wha…?" Severus whined, but shut up as soon as Harry flipped him over on the bed.

Harry needed this, he needed to claim, to prove his territory and something mindless drove him to take Severus. But even as that mindless part urged him to just _take_, Harry's heart told him to be gentle, like Severus had been with him.

He leaned over Severus' back, trailing nips and then coating them with wet kisses, all the while chanting _'mine, mine, mine_' through his one-track thoughts. Leaving a wet trail down Severus' spine he reached his flat arse, but didn't stop there. With that mindless part of himself in charge, he did something he hadn't even heard of before. He dipped his tongue into that tight crevice, seeking out the warm entrance.

"Ohh, Harry," Severus moaned, pushing himself back into Harry's face. Harry loved it, not necessarily the taste, but the feeling of his bond mate squirming underneath him and he continued to devour Severus. "Merlin…" Severus moaned and squirmed and Harry became heady with the power he felt flooding him. He reached through Severus' spread thighs and grabbed at him, stroking slowly with just partial pressure, not enough to bring his lover off as his tongue did wicked things.

Severus groaned and Harry's nerve endings fizzled.

Severus' tightness slowly eased and Harry sat back to cast that same spell his lover used on him and inserted his finger, delighting in the warmth that embraced him. "God, Severus. You feel… amazing. So beautiful. All _mine_," he growled and continued his caress while nipping love bites all over his lower back and thighs. He added another finger, searching for that spot that drove Harry crazy when Severus had touched it.

From the loud gasp, Harry knew he'd hit it. "Is that it?" he asked in awe and brushed up against the spot again.

"Harry, now… fuck me now," Severus begged, and Harry did as ordered.

"Severus, so amazing, you're so amazing." He kneeled behind Severus, positioned himself at that welcoming entrance and sheathed himself completely. His eyes rolled back at the sensation, hot and tight and smooth, and he almost lost it with the one thrust. This was Severus, his mate, his lover. His. "Mine."

He pulled out and thrust in slowly, again and again, holding himself in check. "Stop toying with me, Harry. Harder." Something within him snapped.

With passion and fury and fire, he claimed the man before him, gripping hard on his hips, bruising and marking. "Severusss." With no sense of anything but pleasure and need, it didn't take long for either of them in their fevered rutting. Eventually, there was no rhythm, only the beat of the blood in their veins and the hard grunts filling the air, bodies spasming for friction and completion. The world exploded as they came, Harry deep within Severus and Severus all over his belly as Harry's hand clutched around him.

Harry rode out the orgasm, slowing down his thrusts and kissing Severus' back with loving gentleness. Eventually he stilled, and they collapsed on the bed in a pile of arms and legs with Harry nuzzling the back of Severus' neck and whispering nonsense of praise and love. Soon they slipped into a numb daze.

* * *

They woke up sore, sticky and extremely content. "Good God, Severus, I love fucking you," Harry said with a soft smile. He reached up and tucked a stray hair behind his lover's ear, shocked at the love bites all over his neck, chest, abdomen... "Uh, I overdid it a bit," he confessed as he traced the kiss-sized bruises with his fingertips.

Severus sighed contently. "That's fine, Harry. I enjoyed earning them." Harry shivered with pleasure.

They rose and showered. Harry healed most of Severus' bruises except for one, which Severus insisted on keeping and Harry felt immensely relieved to let it remain. Then they left the sanctuary of Harry's room to find their guests.

However, the only one still awake at the late night hour was Ginny, who was curled up in the library flipping through _A History of Grindylows in Romanian Circus Acts_.

"Must be a good read to keep you up this late," Harry said as he sat himself down next to Ginny on the cushioned bench. St. Francis tended his flock above them.

"Oh good, you're done." Ginny set the book aside and faced Harry and Severus. "I needed to talk to you, about this veela." Tension pulled at Harry's nerves at the mention of the woman who had been trying to take what was his, but a light touch from Severus eased the jealous hold.

"I think I understand something now, some vibe I've been getting. It didn't make any sense at first, so I didn't bother any of you with it. But I had a feeling that while Severus was trustworthy and we were supposed to meet with him and you were to join with him, there was this other inkling that he was somehow altered." The typical Ginny smile was missing, replaced by a grim look that kept Harry tense and at the ready.

"Altered?" they asked together.

She jumped to her feet, her face flush as she spoke quickly, words flooding from her mouth. "Yeah, that he wasn't exactly who was in the visions, that he had _shifted_ somehow from who he had been. And I think it was the fact that the veela had been feeding you. She isn't supposed to be. Do you understand what that means?" Ginny asked frantically. The men shook their heads. "Something in the timeline has been messed with. Or my vision had been messed with." She began pacing, gesturing wildly as she explained what she barely understood. "I'm not sure, but when a vision is received there are many outcomes, but the facts are usually still the facts, however vague they might be. But in this case, Severus is not the Severus of my visions." Her voice rose with each word, grew heavy with the implications. "My visions didn't account for the veela. Her actions are somehow _off_ my vision detection."

That didn't sound good. "But who, or what, can do that?" Harry asked. "Is that a natural veela ability, maybe?" He felt he was grasping at straws. Since veela were not technically dark creatures, they had never bothered studying them.

Ginny shook her head. "No, I don't think so."

Severus said, "However, there are some branches of magic dealing with fate and time that could possibly have been utilized to sneak that woman in without you knowing about it, Miss Weasley. Very complicated forms of magic that only a very powerful wizard could master. Either Voldemort has a new ally, perhaps it is this veela, who is not a weak individual, or he has regained much of his strength." He shared a grave look with Harry and Ginny. "I think the endgame might be upon us."

**END BIT 10**


	11. BIT 11

A/N: This is the longest chapter. There is really only one chapter left. I hope this explains things a bit.

**BIT 11**

For their own reasons, the three went their separate ways after the disturbing revelation. Mulling over this new situation, Harry unsurprisingly found himself walking the length of the halls of the manor. His manor. Once he'd had nothing, no friends, no real family, only broken toys passed to him from his spoiled cousin, tucked away in the cupboard under the stairs with the spiders and hopelessness. Now, a blood legacy. It still astounded him that something of such grandeur could be his. And to think that he might be facing his nemesis soon. This stalled portion of his life, achingly drawn out into almost meaningless thinness, would be over. He had no stray thoughts that he might not win, he knew he would win. His allies loved him, they didn't follow him in fear for family and life, and each of them was powerful and skilled, Titans of the Wand. The four of them… wait, no, five with Severus, could destroy Voldemort as easily as banishing spilled tea, with a flick of their wands. Zap his fractured soul to oblivion never to return again. It made Harry chuckle in glee.

"What is that maniacal laughter for, Potter?" Harry shifted, turning around from where he'd been lost in thought, starting out at the first splays of pink leaking into the night's void. Severus, dressed in intimidating full-length robes, was staring down his nose at Harry as his long stride brought him closer and closer, like a charger eager for the fray. His face was stern, his eyes black and flat. But Harry felt that the man was amused. Severus was… joking with him. So, the Age of Miracles hadn't ended after all.

"Sorry, sir. I was just devising more ways to sneak out after curfew and peak in at the girls in the prefects' bath." He adopted a contrite look and shuffled his feet. "I won't do it again, sir; I promise."

"Promises are rarely kept by errant school boys. I think you need to be... punished." A wicked gleam entered those pearly black eyes and Harry gulped. Severus stalked up to him, a feral, Cheshire grin that caused Harry's heart to thump and sputter, his face to grow warm and uncomfortable in anticipation. Their bodies met and Severus leaned down and licked at his mouth, tasting and judging and finding him worthy. With parted lips, Harry lifted himself up with his toes to capture the tall man in a kiss, but then Severus pulled back with a smirk.

"Agh. Not fair," Harry sighed, leaning his head on Severus' shoulder.

In a softer, more gentle voice Severus said, "Harry, once you destroy Voldemort, you will be free of this obligation. You will have your life back."

"What do you mean?" Suddenly goosebumps spread over his arms, the tiny hairs lifting and catching the gentle air currents slipping through the manor halls like blood through the tiny capillaries of the heart.

"You have Baden Manor; you are the most powerful wizard that I have ever come across, you are young... and attractive. I will not chain you..."

"What the fuck, Severus?" Harry couldn't believe this. "Stop... just stop. You are being a complete idiot." He gripped the vampire's biceps, and with intention and will he forced at Severus all the feelings that had been fermenting within him, bubbling and growing and changing. "You feel that? Does that give you the impression that I want to run off and be with someone else? Does that feel like I want anyone else but _you_?" His words were quiet but charged with truth and honest conviction.

Like a spark was lit behind them, Severus' eyes flashed. "No, but what will you do? What do you expect when this is over?" All of that love and power he had bombarded Severus with had been absorbed by the man and cherished and gently sent back. It was comforting, like a hug, and Harry leaned into that support, clutching onto him so even death couldn't tear him from his grasp.

"I was just thinking about that," Harry said, his words muffled by the heavy wool of Severus' robe as he brushed his fingers through Harry's hair. Harry'd noticed that Severus loved playing with his hair. "I have been waiting for this moment for the majority of my life, but now that it might be upon me… I was never really sure what I was going to do with myself." But now, he knew he had a better idea.

"Well, I am sure you can find yourself a nice, young witch, settle down, have a family and a crup and a white picket fence." Harry felt the amused smirk in the rumble of the man's chest, the lilt of his words, and through their joining.

He leaned back and looked up into Severus' face. "Oh, come off it, Severus. I'm planning to run around the Caribbean with my pet vampire and shag like rabbits till the sun rises." With cheeky charm, he grinned. There, that earned him the kiss he wanted.

* * *

"That's the plan," Kingsley said to the group littering the library.

"Overly simple plan, don't you think?" Ron asked. A pencil was trapped behind one ear as he studied the mostly empty parchment that covered the surface of a full sized desk. The seven of them had jotted down ideas on the parchment in a rainbow of inks, erased particularly bad notions, and settled on a few options that really didn't constitute a plan at all.

"Nothing's wrong with simple, Ron. It should work, though there are a few holes large enough to fly a Ridgeback through. We aren't sure if this veela can sense how far away we are. But if her sensory range is limited, she might not be prepared for us to return," Hermione offered weakly.

With his hands buried deep in his hip pockets, Harry kept circling the table, hoping that by reviewing their written thoughts at a different angle some flash of inspiration might come to him. The base of the plan was to use Severus as bait, leaving him in the manor, alone, waiting for some sign of the veela's arrival so they could return to capture and interrogate her. Severus already had the Veritaserumbrewed and Harry had a few tricks in reserve that he'd learned in Japan a few years ago when he'd had an altercation with a kitsune that had already swayed three women to join his bed with his animal magnetism.

One glaring problem, the Killing Curse of problems, was that when she showed, would Severus be able to ward her off? Harry had talked with Josephine and she had promised to help Severus in any way to keep that veela away from him. It was a small relief.

"Harry, can I talk to you and Severus out in the hall?" Hermione asked as he passed her chair for the fifth time. He looked over at her and nodded, barely registering her amused expression.

She stood, gestured to Severus to join them and they all left the library, closed the door, and took a few steps down the hall before she threw up one of her impenetrable silencing barriers. The man in the portrait across from them looked annoyed at this and stuck up his nose in a good impression of a Malfoy.

"Stop worrying, Harry." Severus cocked an eyebrow at her. "And you, too," she said to Severus. "I know you two are sleeping together." Harry blushed and Severus looked casually away. "Now, I don't know what you _feel_ for each other, but it isn't the same old animosity, that's obvious. It hasn't been that since even before you started exchanging bodily fluids," she said with a smirk. "So, from my research on vampires and the blood joining, I remember that it gives you strength against doing things that would hurt your joined partner. So, it would give Severus added obstinacy, not that he needs more, to work against Serephia's charms. As I said before, if you just have the blood exchange, then that will create the joining. If you include sex it creates a stronger bond with an exchange of magic and an empathic link. So we know you have that, am I right?"

Harry looked up at Severus and tugged at the bond, nudged it with his mind or heart or some other new sense that had developed with the joining. Relief, amusement and something else, something warm responded. He smiled and relaxed. "Ah, yeah. We haven't done the whole magic exchange thing yet, but we can sense each other."

"Good," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "Now, if you men care for each other at all, it will make it even stronger. Especially if someone tries to force you to do the other harm. Think of it like this, if you love each other, then exchanging blood with someone else while you're already joined would hurt your partner. So it gives you more strength to fight whatever it is you need to fight. So, quit worrying. Severus will have added strength because of your," she shrugged her shoulders and shook her head searching for a word, "_relationship_, to assure that relationship isn't undermined." She finished with a grin. "Understand?"

He did.

He threw his arms around Hermione and hugged her. "Thank you, Hermione. You always had a knack at teaching the slow and stupid." He pulled back, grinning like a fool. A love-struck fool. Even Severus' severity lessened. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Well, let's go back before they think we're engaging in some _ménage à trois_or equally risqué amusement." She dropped her barrier and the three returned, Harry holding onto Severus' arm like he was his Yule dance date.

"So," Kingsley said as the door opened, "we're planning this set-up's play by play for tomorrow. That good with you three?"

"Yep. Let's get this over with," Harry said full of relief and excitement.

* * *

Hiding away in his drawing room, Severus watched the hot flames dance upon the logs. He was alone in the house with only that cantankerous spirit to keep him company, but at least the fire was cheery.

"We'll be on the edge of the forest, just beyond the Apparition point," Harry said, peppering kisses along his neck. "The minute we know she appears we'll jump on our brooms and fly in."

He felt completely out of sorts and perhaps that bothered him more than knowing he was being used as a lure for the veela. He wanted a word with that woman, needed to know why it was that he was singled out. Was it because Voldemort wanted to get back at him, especially now that it was obvious he worked with the Order? And how did they find out about the Sentinel program? The many questions were suffocating him and he wanted them all answered. His fists clenched just thinking about it, distracting him from that needle of worry slipping into each of his thoughts.

"_What if I drink from her," Severus mumbled his main worry, cringing at how needy he sounded, at how entirely reliant he'd become on Harry in just a few short weeks. "What if I can't do anything about it and drink from her?"_

"_That won't happen. Just think of me. Just think of this." And then Harry kissed him, deeply, making Severus feel precious in that kiss, cherished like he'd never felt before._

Waiting was something he'd always excelled at. He had patience; he could lay down the pieces of a plan and wait for years for them to come to fruition. He was a master manipulator, in control of himself at all times. Why was he feeling so helpless?

"Fuck!" he yelled at nobody, his fists clenching, hungry for something to punch. He had to get a grip on his undermining imagination. He went to the kitchen and brewed a strong cup of Earl Grey. As he poured the boiling water over the leaves at the bottom of the porcelain pot, he engaged his senses, his strong vampiric ears and nose. He would be ready for her, even if his calm was only a farce.

He took a tea cup back to his drawing room and sat in his comfortable chair. The fire continued to blaze happily, keeping his dead bones warm. And he waited.

"Remember, you need to give us some time. We will have a perimeter detection spell up to alert us to her presence, but it will take us time to return to the manor. So you have to bring her in and keep her busy until we get there. Distract her enough that she won't notice our approach."

That was all sickeningly optimistic and easy for Shacklebolt to say, but Severus certainly wanted to spend as little time in the wicked woman's presence as possible.

"Someone is coming." The unexpected words startled Severus and he spilled his tea, scalding himself unknowingly. Josephine stood at the threshold of his room, his sanctuary for so many years. He tried to remember the last time she had berated him, but couldn't place the exact day. He nodded at her once and she sunk into the floor, seeping into the stone and tile, and then the bells cracked the air.

"Above all, don't worry. We have something here, right?" Harry asked, his palm resting over Severus' heart and he held his breath in wonder. "She can't take that away from us." He drew his hand down the side of Severus' face, caressing him, and finally he turned to leave.

"Josephine," Severus said to the air, "please, let her in."

A moment later the claxons stopped and he could hear the happy greeting of the house-spirit. "Welcome! Please come in. The Master of the House is currently out. Can I bring you refreshment?"

Silently, he thanked the House for doing her part, but knew the veela would not be distracted long.

"I am here to speak with Severus." Like the voice of an agent of God, each syllable, each sound a brilliant tone; they slipped into his ears, his mind, and fanned divine adoration. Words emerging from her dulcet voice could bring grown men to cry, but he had his pride, damn it! Defending himself against her deadly grace, he erected his mental defenses and steadied his shoulders. He had run from her once, he would not do it again. His thoughts with Harry, he strode to the door of the drawing room, each footstep clacking against the floor tiles ticking his passage into the barren lands of uncertainty, and threw it open to the foyer.

"What is it you want of me, Serephia?" he asked.

The woman was as beautiful as ever, although her wings were a darker gray than the soft charcoal they had been before. Like burnt steel. She still wore her hard leather breastplate and sword strapped to her back and he couldn't remove the thought of an avenging angel from his head. Perhaps God had sent her here to punish him for all his sins, but he didn't think even the fabled Archangel Michael could make him atone for the entirety of his past deeds.

"Why so hostile, Severus?" she asked. "I've only ever offered you what you need with nothing requested in return." The veela's folded wings fluttered slightly, and Severus couldn't help but be reminded of a cat ready to pounce, as if quivering with heightened anticipation.

"What do you want of me?" he asked once more, relieved that his voice was firm and steady.

"Why do you question me? Aren't we comrades in arms?" She took a step towards him.

Severus took a step back, maintaining a barrier of space from her magnetic allure, which even at this distance was nudging at him, tempting him to close the gap. His eyeteeth ached, wanting to lengthen in preparation for that first puncture of unspoiled skin.

The woman cocked her head, a slight crinkle of her brows marring the smooth ice-sheet of her skin. "Why do you run from me, Severus?" she asked, pleasant and smooth.

"You will answer my questions first, woman," Severus said. "Why do you come to offer me your blood?"

"I told you, because you were fading, killing yourself. Each of us Sentinels must keep sharp. I only returned to assure you were healthy enough to fulfill your obligation. Is that wrong of me?" Her wings lifted and he could see the edges of them beyond her back, miles of fine, gray feathers. An unfamiliar scent rose through the air and if Severus had hackles, they would have risen; instead his fangs lowered in threat.

"Stop it, woman," he growled past his incisors, flinching as dagger-sharp claws lengthened from the tips of his fingers, pulling at the surrounding flesh and skin. He didn't understand where this fight-or-flight instinct was coming from, but it felt right and it felt good and he reveled in the power of his bloodlust. "Get away from me."

"Severus, I have what you want." She took a step closer, her wings flapping once, twice, stirring the air. With another step he retreated into his drawing room and went to close the door, but he paused as he saw the veela reach up and draw her sword. Did the woman intend to fight him? The sound of the blade unsheathing, a sharp ring of metal on metal, sung its warrior song. The blade glinted in the candle light of the hall casting reflections on the silk-covered walls; she brought it to her palm, running it slowly across the skin. He watched in eager longing as a thin line of red welled up from the cut. She returned the sword with one fluid motion and reached out with her bloody palm. "I have what you need," she said, taking another step forward.

Trapped, he stood motionless, entranced, watching as the bloodied hand grew closer and closer, the cupped palm collecting that sinful temptation. The wings of the woman, now almost black, expanded to fill the hall. His senses whirled in a light-headed daze; his hand clutched the edge of the door as his mind frantically screamed "Run, you fool!" but he stood petrified by want and desire and her fucking undeniable power and like a frozen rabbit he watched her approach.

They stood mere feet apart when the woman's calm grace, diva's voice and enticing smell completely removed Severus' will. All he could think of was the blood, the rich blood right there for the taking. Why wasn't he drinking from her? Why was he standing here? He took a hesitant step forward and she smiled at him. He took another, eyes on the blood dripping from her palm, splattering on the stone tiles, leaving a pattern of maroon islands on a sea of gray. When she was close enough, she leaned down and kissed the pallid skin of his forehead. Then she went stiff.

The blood. He could smell it, taste its phantom promise on his lips. Why wasn't he devouring it?

_Harry._

"What have you done?" The harsh whisper pierced his mesmerized daze, drawing his struggle away from the pool of red liquid. "Who is it? Which one has been feeding you?" Dread crept into the words, lacing them with poison that broke the spell chaining Severus. "Who is it?" she screeched. "_Who is it?_ "

Blinking and shaking his head, he realized he'd almost drunk the veela's blood so eagerly offered, which now smelled fetid and perverse. He scrambled away, eyeteeth and claws retreating in a panic he hadn't realized he was even capable of feeling. He had almost drunk Serephia's blood. He had almost destroyed his joining with Harry. Sweet Harry, who tasted like heaven and filled his heart with so much—

Merlin be damned!

"_Who is it?_ " The woman's voice reached decibels rattling his eardrums and her wings flapped furiously, raining feathers over the entrance hall floor. Then she pulled them in and launched herself at Severus, tackling the stunned man full on and smacking them into the floor.

* * *

_God. Merlin. The Ancients. Allah. Whoever can hear me, please let me make it in time. Please let me get there. Please… God. Merlin. Please._

Harry's broom screamed through the air with the others attempting, but failing, to keep up, falling behind slowly as Harry put everything he had into the flight. He dodged between the trees and shrubs; with quick dips and rises he darted under the foliage and branches until he burst out of the forest and rocketed straight for the front door.

His heart was racing, his mind was racing, every evil, every thing that could go wrong was going wrong in his imagination as he plummeted for the manor. He could feel Severus, could feel his fear, his struggle, and he could hear a mantra, soft and desperate, being repeated in his bondmate's head, '_think of Harry, Harry, think of Harry._'

Fuck. He had to fly faster.

"Josephine," he mouthed as he shot straight towards the front doors, closed tight, blocking him from Severus and the foul woman who planned to take him away. "Open the doors. Now, please." And they opened as if in warm greeting and he zipped right through, rounded the corner and burst into the drawing room.

"Get your fucking hands off him, bitch!" Harry screamed and threw himself from his broom, landing on the winged back of the veela crouching over _his_ Severus.

"It is _you_!" screeched Serephia. "The Boy Who Lived." She stood, and with a thrust of her wings threw Harry off, giving Severus a window to escape from under her weight and gain his feet.

Severus stood on one side of the woman and Harry on the other, his wand out and anger burning off of him like the flames of a phoenix. "What're you doing?" he demanded through clenched teeth. "Who the fuck are you? Are you working with Voldemort?"

Serephia stood tall, wings at half span, and drew her sword. Turning her back on the vampire, she faced the wizard and his wand, swinging her sword before her in a great arching X across her chest. "You think to take him from us? He belongs with us! He is _ours_!" She lunged forward. Quick! Too quick, and she sliced at Harry's wand arm and cut deep.

He gripped the wound with his hand and stared up at Serephia. "Why do you think he's yours?" he spat after he had muttered a spell to curb the bleeding. "Who are you with?"

Still facing Harry, sword at the ready but ignoring his questions, she said to the man behind her: "I can't believe this, Severus. You bonded with this _man_? You chose a boy over me, a veela? I could have offered you pleasures to drown in, fulfillment, answers to all of your desires."

"Perhaps, Serephia, but you couldn't offer me what Harry can," Severus said coldly, his lips twisted in contempt.

She whirled around on him, exposing her winged back completely to Harry.

"And what is that, Severus? Love?" she asked with mockery and distaste. "How can you love him? You've hated him your entire life. Look at all the anguish his father has caused you, he has caused you."

"What do you know of the anguish I have suffered?" Severus asked, and Harry watched as his lover's fangs and claws extended, and a shiver of fear and excitement wracked his body. This was his lover, his vampire, his … he didn't quite know what, and the power radiating off of him tingled Harry's nerve endings.

"I know, for our Lord told me all! After you disappeared I waited, waited with him. But he then he was gone! He had to leave us, his most faithful, because of that boy! Why are you with _him_?" The last word was said with such loathing, Harry almost felt disgusted with himself.

Snarling like a rabid wolf, Severus faced the veela down. "I do not remember you, nor any other veela in Voldemort's ranks. Why should I believe a thing you say? You appear to have an over-inflated sense of your own renown, or you lie for some unknown and unimportant reason."

While the two partial humans challenged each other, Harry began to spin his magic and build up his defenses. "_Protego_," he whispered. Then he lashed out with a procession of hexes and spells. _Stupefy! Aienthia! Petrificus Totalus! Welltortus!_ He cast spells to rip her magic from her, spells to rend her limb from limb and finally he screamed out, "_Avada Kedavra"_ in a desperate effort at overcoming her.

And nothing happened.

The spells either absorbed into or bounced off of those deep gray wings and nothing Harry cast could break through.

He heard the clack of a shoe behind him, a clack of promise and relief, and knew his friends had arrived, ready and waiting for him to direct their actions.

Needless to say they were at a bit of a stalemate.

"I was his most faithful servant, kept hidden and secret for when I was needed most. Bellatrix Black was nothing to him, was nothing," she spat, her words growing more fevered as she spoke. "I was _everything_ to our Lord! I was…" and in a flash, someone raced past Harry and there was a loud 'crash!' as something made of porcelain or glass was smashed over the veela's head.

Everyone stopped to look at Hermione standing with shards of an ancient vase gripped in her hands while the remains of it littered the floor around the fallen body of the winged woman. The heavy silence was suffocating.

"Well," Hermione said desperately. "Magic didn't seem to be affecting her!" Ron burst out laughing.

"At least it wasn't a chair leg," Harry grumbled as he walked over to the woman, and began casting binding spells on her that now worked without her winged shield. "A vase has a little more class."

"My vase!" cried Josephine sadly, appearing out of mist. "It has been in the family for seven generations, brought to the manor by Lord Leopold van Buren after his visit to the Far East. Gone. Broken into a million little pieces." She stooped down and ran her fingers through the fine dust and shards on the floor.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Josephine," Hermione said contritely.

"No problem," said Harry, and with a quick _Reparo_, the vase was new again.

"Oh, Master! You truly are amazing and good!" Harry found himself surrounded by joyous house-spirit and calmly patted her back, looking over at Severus with a shy grin.

Everyone filed into the room then; Seamus, Kingsley, Ron and then Ginny, staring down at the sprawled-out woman.

"She certainly is hot," Ron said with a sigh. Seamus nodded his agreement.

Ginny giggled and when everyone looked at her, she just shrugged and started dancing around the group, humming softly to herself.

"What's up with Ginny?" Seamus asked, watching after her with worry.

"Oh, she's probably just had some vision of Ron and this veela living happily ever after and bearing seven red-headed children," Hermione said with little flourish. "Or perhaps it was you," she said more thoughtfully. Then she shrugged at Seamus' continuing confusion.

Harry's eyes were locked on their prisoner. She worked for Voldemort? Did she know where he was? He could almost taste the eager bile on the back of his tongue, the desire to have her awake and spilling everything she knew. His fist clenched around his wand and his teeth ground against each other in angry anticipation.

A soft touch brushed his arm and he jumped at its tenderness. He tore away from his hatred to look into the stern face of a middle-aged man with bad teeth and sallow skin and it soothed him. Severus held his shoulder and pulled Harry to him, who offered no resistance. The two men embraced and within those encompassing arms, Harry felt his fury and hatred ease from his bones and relinquish their control.

"Thank you," Harry softly murmured.

"No, thank you," Severus replied and planted a kiss on the top of Harry's brow.

Hermione began shooing the others out of the room. She levitated the bound veela behind her as she exited, drawing the door closed to leave the two men alone.

* * *

The room was silent, preternaturally silent like a death watch waiting room at St. Mungo's, and the only one at ease was Ginny, who sat perched on a study desk, swinging her legs, the edge of her skirt lifting and falling with the pendulum motion, and nibbling on a chicken leg.

They had decided to separate those involved in the questioning from those who were not. So they had bound Serephia to a chair, with magical means and sturdy Muggle-issue handcuffs for good measure, and placed her with her back to the masterful mosaic in the northwest corner of the large ballroom. With her were Severus and Kingsley, interrogator and judge, and the others, hidden behind a disillusionment screen, watched from the south.

Kingsley was chosen because of his experience with the Aurors and his knowledge of wizarding law and proper interrogation techniques. Severus was chosen for much the same reasons, especially his expertise concerning Veritaserumas well as the fact that it had become common acceptance that she would be more willing to speak with him than anyone else.

It was early in the morning and they'd argued from dusk till the bright beginnings of dawn. Normally dawn had always held promise but on this morning, to Harry, where he now glowered behind the screen, it only seemed to mock him. He had not been chosen because of his hot temper and increasingly high sense of protection for and possession of Severus. Everyone had outvoted him, told him he would just be in the way and Ginny even suggested with macabre amusement that he might end up killing their captive. Admittedly, Severus had abstained. Behind the curtain, beyond the touch of Severus' reassurance, he waited, his wand was out and his eyes latched onto the veela as Kingsley revived her.

"_Ennervate_!"

The woman's eyes snapped open, none of that dreary slow coming-to that was typical of magically awakened people, and immediately put all her mettle to struggle against her bindings. Harry watched her as she attempted to unfurl her wings, straining and shivering with the effort, and grinned maliciously when she failed. Through their bond, he knew that Severus was relieved her wings and deadly charm would not be unleashed.

Soon Serephia grew still and an odd transformation took hold; the pull of her lip, the contortion of her eyebrows released, the indignation and fury in her eyes cooled and with a breath, she looked calmly up at the two wizards, one pale, one dark, both capable of intimidating a charging Thestral. Then she smiled at them as if she wasn't tied down and her fate wasn't at their whim. "So, gentlemen…" Harry's heart almost ached at the melody of her words. "What is it you wish of me?"

Ginny snorted around the chicken bone and Hermione smacked her lightly on the arm. Light filtered through the stained glass mosaic of the high windows, painting her annoyed features in festive hues.

"Hey!" Ginny complained.

"Shhh, I want to hear this," Hermione said as she fluttered her hand, shushing Ginny.

Harry ignored them.

"Well, Serephia, is it?" Kingsley asked, and after the veela had nodded, he continued. "We would like to know what you can tell us about Voldemort."

"I won't tell you a thing," she said, calm and in control as if she was turning down a cube of sugar for her tea. "Nothing can make me speak of him."

Leaning towards her, Severus asked calmly, "Where is the Dark Lord?"

"What is left of him is hidden in Greenland." The woman's posture snapped into rigidity and she clamped her jaw shut. Then, "What have you done to me?" she demanded. The two men looked down at her severely and her tongue let lose again. "Severus, please." Just the sound of her voice, her plea, caused heat to pool in Harry's groin. He shifted uncomfortably on his feet and next to him he could hear Seamus gasp. "I could do so much for you. Even though you've already joined with another, we could still be joined as well. And then I could give you anything, everything, so much more than that inexperienced human."

"Fucking hell," Seamus muttered.

"At what strength is the Dark Lord?" Severus asked the next question, just as calmly, ignoring her promises and entreaties.

"He is a shadow of his former glory and it pains me to see him thus," she said sadly, the regal posture of her shoulders slumping noticeably as she looked down at her knees, resigned to her fate of divulging any knowledge that the men could ferret out of her.

"What allies does he have?"

Her gaze rose, cutting at Severus' veneer of stone, but he withstood the dark look with the ease of a man who'd continuously walked with madmen. "He has me. I will always be by his side, supporting him in his most divine of goals." There was a fevered sheen of adoration coating her eyes; madness and devotion.

In a way, it made her ugly.

"This could be Bellatrix right here," Harry murmured to himself, shivering against the lunacy evident in the woman. "How did Voldemort ever earn such blind loyalty?"

"What other allies, apart from yourself?"

"Oh, there are many Death Eaters still at his call, dear Severus." A smile replaced her previous slip of sanity and her ethereal beauty was donned again. "He wondered about you, you know. He always had a soft spot for you. After his Horcruxes had been destroyed, he wondered where you had gone. He ran to save himself and our precious goal, he had to hide away from those unworthy Muggle lovers who were hunting him, hunting him like a criminal." A sneer ticked at her lip, but she forced it away with sweetly tainted words. "He called, he called out to us all, but you did not come when he needed you most." She tilted her head and gazed up at her intended through thick lashes. "You still bear his mark, yet you did not come."

"How is the Dark Lord protected?" Severus asked, his deep timber breaking the fine bell-like spell the veela's voice had been weaving.

"He is hidden in a cave under tons of ice, non-Apparition wards surrounding the entire complex, twenty highly trained wizards guard him day and night, as well as other creatures, such as veela, vampires and werewolves." A soft chuckle, light and carefree, caused Harry's arms to erupt in goosebumps. "And Dementors surround each entrance of the cave structure." She grinned up at Severus, her beauty almost staggering and Harry almost wept at what he saw in those eyes.

Had he ever had that devotion for anything? His parents? He never really knew them. Dumbledore? But he had felt betrayed by the man too many times to adore him quite like that. He loved his friends, but such fervent loyalty? He knew he would do anything for them, but he also knew they wouldn't ask of him something he couldn't offer. This woman would give her life for Voldemort, her very soul.

A subtle movement caught his eye and he looked up through the screen right into Severus' eyes. It was only a flash of a moment, a tiny window into the flow of time, but during that moment Harry knew that this vampire, this man, understood such devotion, and with that knowledge, Harry realized he understood it as well.

Then Severus turned away and continued to question their captive.

"How do we get into the Dark Lord's stronghold?"

"Oh, he very much wants to meet with you, Severus. I can take you there personally." Her head bobbed eagerly, shifting the height of her wings trapped behind her. "You and your little whelp, if you'd like. But no others!" She smiled at Severus in a very satisfied way, like the entire situation was in her complete control, something she had planned from the dawn of time and all of the blocks she'd laid were lying down in the exact pattern she'd expected, building some cursed cathedral for a demon god. It was unnerving. "When would you like to go?"

"Harry," Hermione said behind him. "I don't like this. I don't trust her. You know this is a trap, right?"

Harry turned around to look at his friends, all gathered around him like the entourage of a landed Lord preparing for battle. Seamus looked completely overwhelmed, but Ron and Hermione were ready, completely prepared for this final battle. Ginny sat immodestly cross-legged in her skirt right in the center of her table, staring at the jagged soles of her trainers.

"Ginny, what do you think?"

The young woman shook her head with a worried frown; her skin had gone a pasty off-white. "Harry, the minute she offered her bargain, I could sense nothing." A small exhale of air fluffed the edges of her hair that framed her thin face. "The normal vibe I get about the outcome of any action just isn't there. It's a black hole. I tell you she can either hide or manipulate fate. On one hand, I completely agree with Hermione. This is obviously a trap and you shouldn't go, especially without us." Hermione nodded, gesturing at Ginny in a 'see, listen to her' manner. "But then, I know you and Severus can do it, and only you two can. If this gets you closer to him, I think you should take the chance."

Hermione looked incredulously over at Ginny. "You can't be serious?"

She only shrugged, having already had her say.

"Ron, any words of wisdom here?" Harry asked.

"Sorry, mate. I think I'd do it if I was you, but I'm just as worried as Hermione. I hate it that you'd be going in there without us, but then we always knew it had to be you. We're just support characters in this twisted farce of a life." Ron sounded almost depressed and Harry couldn't blame him.

He didn't feel all bright and sunshiny about this either.

From the other side of the screen, the group could hear, "I will return later. Please, stay and remain comfortable." Harry watched Severus across the room and could see him sneer as he brought attention to her bonds.

"Certainly. I will await your decision," she said pleasantly.

Severus and Kingsley left the ballroom through the grand double doors of the main northern entrance but circled around through the halls to enter through a smaller door at the end where the others waited.

Kingsley's usual exuberant grin was missing and he wore only an expression of concern. "I'll leave it to you. Of course I advise against it, but this is your call." He crossed his arms against his chest and leaned up against the door jamb.

"We have to go. I mean, we're being delivered right to Voldemort, how can we lose this opportunity?" Harry said to the gathering, stepping towards the door to be closer to Severus.

"_Because_ you are being delivered right to Voldemort," Seamus said, as if stating the most obvious signifiable event on earth: the sun shone, rain fell, and Harry Potter had a death wish. "This is idiotic!" And the room exploded into argument.

"Yes, it is," Severus said, breaking through the din and effectively killing their debate. "It is suicide, it is idiotic, but it is also an opportunity we cannot miss. We must act and this is the one opening we have received in over ten years. Yes, it is a trap, but in knowing that, we can prepare for it. This conflict must come to an end, and better to end it now then wait another decade."

"Hallelujah," said Ginny with no emotion whatsoever.

"I take it you are not in support of this endeavor," Severus said dryly.

"I don't have a good feeling… well, that's not necessarily correct. I don't have _any_ feeling about this. I guess it just goes to show how dependent I've become on my ability." She shrugged helplessly. "Listen, we all want this over with… I think you should go. You have my complete support and I will do _anything_ you ask me to… but into this event I am blind. I can't offer you any future knowledge or even suggestions."

"You certainly have the training, so it isn't like you're a lamb being led to the wolves," explained Hermione thoughtfully. "I think you can do it. And it isn't like you're going alone, Harry, you have Severus. And even though I cannot be there to save you if and when you need saving," she chuckled at Harry's incredulous look, "I do trust that Severus will be an adequate substitute." She smiled up at Severus, who blinked at the compliment.

Harry reacted to this support with a huge grin. He _could_ do this. He knew it. Ten years. He'd had ten years of preparation. With Severus by his side, there wasn't anything he couldn't accomplish.

He walked over to the man and leaned against him, resting his head on Severus' shoulder. A quiet calm surrounded them all, like a cloud of hopes and promises, as he took in this last moment of peace before these two fearless men would launch themselves into the deadly unknown.

Seamus cleared his throat, breaking the moment with his unease, and asked: "So, shall we get to planning?"

**END BIT 11**


	12. BIT 12

**A/N:** I wrote this story 2 years ago and it ended at 54,000 words. In this re-write I've added another 6,000. I feel odd, posting this final 'major' chapter. It's like the end of an era (though short) for me and I want to thank everyone who has read and commented and given me support.

**BIT 12**

It was taking too long. Severus grumbled at this sloth-like turn of events. The buzz of anticipation kept the group scurrying about like an ant hill on fire, excited about Harry going to finish the good fight but continuing to hold them in purgatory at the manor until every contingency was accounted for.

Three days had already passed. Serephia had been given a room and was allowed some freedom of movement, though her wings were kept tightly bound and her hands tied at her front. Initially, Severus was the only one she would accept food from, until the woman started cutting herself with her fingernails and teeth to entice him with her rich blood.

It shocked him to realize he wasn't that tempted. Regardless, they soon employed Ginny and Hermione to tend to their captive with Seamus barging in at regular intervals, regaling the veela about his outstanding Auror skills and bragging that a dragon's cock was a mere appendage compared to his gigantic pleasure tool. Hermione reproached him every time, though the Irish lad still licked his lips at the sight of the woman.

"Seriously, Seamus. Put it back in your pants," she scolded.

It wasn't unusual for Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione to be found in the darkest hours of the night countering every one of Kingsley's scenarios until it seemed they finally convinced the experienced Auror that they _could_ do this. Severus only observed, knowing Harry was a force in and of himself and could handle Kingsley as well as Voldemort, and just bided his time until Kingsley realized it, too.

But still… three days.

Even he, with all of his years, grew antsy.

Early on the morning of the fourth day, as Severus lethargically snuggled into the warm bed he and Harry had been sharing, the group had finally met consensus. Severus listened to the arguments, the sound rising up through the tiny cracks between brick and wood to reach his ears with the help of Josephine, and to Severus it sounded like the consensus was stuffed down Kingsley's throat by Ron of all people.

"Shut up!" he'd heard Ron yell, cutting off the muddled voices that rose and fell in a tide of anxiety pulled more strongly than by any moon. "Kingsley. Mate. I know you mean well, but you're killing us here. You're killing Harry. He's in his death throws now." Severus felt for his bonded mate and could feel nothing but boredom. "He's ready. He's spent the last ten fucking years training for this one stupid moment. He _is_ ready. Trust in him. He isn't the snot-nosed brat who bumbled into trouble with only luck and two amazing best friends to save his hide anymore."

"Wow, thanks. I'm not certain how I'll deal with such praise," said Harry, and Severus snorted into the pillow.

"He is a fully trained wizard with more skills in more areas of magic than I bet anyone in this era, well except for us." There was a pause. "Now, let him go. Let him meet that fucking destiny of his so he can be done with it and spend the rest of his life actually _living_. Okay?"

Severus chuckled at the utter silence left in the wake of Ron's rant.

Then he swore he could hear Ginny giggling; but then that was expected.

"Fine," Kingsley said, and Severus pulled the duvet tight around himself, breathing in deep the smell of Harry, musky and touched by the earth, and felt content, even knowing he would be facing down death that night.

* * *

In bitter wind, Severus, Harry and Serephia stood before a rocky, snow-capped mountain range that looked recently birthed from the bowels of the earth. The air chilled Harry to the bone, but it wasn't just due to the sub-zero temperatures, but also to the three Dementors hungry for their souls, hovering near the small cave entrance they'd been trudging towards for hours. At first it was just a small marring of black on the blue-silver surface of the ice crevasse, but it grew with each hard-earned step, their long flowing fabrics flapping in the harsh gale as the storm clouds raced overhead.

The sun had just slipped past the horizon and the temperature plunged with its slow demise. Wrapped in parkas, robes and heating spells, tagged with tracking charms from their allies, the three had trekked over three miles at a snail's pace crossing solid snow and ice from the edge of the Anti-Apparition ward to this promise of cover from the endless whipping of air. Harry slipped on the ice, the footing treacherous for even his agile steps. Now they faced the very embodiment of fear, only so they could enter this forbidding cave where they would challenge the most evil wizard of the century.

Harry sniffed at his runny nose; he couldn't wait for it all to be over.

"They will not attack if I am with you," Serephia screamed into the deafening storm, her words torn away, barely reaching the men who huddled closely by her. She continued to walk towards the sentries, only to be gripped and held back by Severus.

She looked down at him over her shoulder, locks of her short hair beating against her strong nose and high cheeks, her brilliant eyes on fire with inner mirth that irritated Harry. "Yes, Severus?" she asked kindly.

"Do not go running off before us. You will stay by our sides," Severus ordered.

"You've nothing to worry about, Severus. I won't leave your side until we are received by our Lord and then it will be at his side that I will stand." She glanced over at Harry. "And then, Severus, you can stand with us."

He despised that woman. Shivers twitched through his every muscle and he longed for warmth and goodness and happy thoughts as they passed between those darkest of guards and into the black void of the cave. Both Severus and Harry cast light from their wands, which illuminated little detail in the natural cavern other than the rough outline of ice crystals and stone. With the veela in a short lead, they continued down the winding tunnel, hollow tubes spiraling off the main passage like the branches of an ancient oak; into the heart of the mountain they descended, leaving behind the burgeoning storm. Behind him, emerging from the high piercing wind, was a low rumble, building and growing until a crack split the air and even the wail of the wind was overcome. He paused and looked back. He knew Ron, Hermione and Ginny would be close, following at a distance in case they were needed, but somehow he felt cut off, more so than ever before as the cave swallowed them up.

The air was cold and scentless as he sucked it into his lungs. His ears burned with the cold and he lifted his gloved hands up to his mouth to breathe warmth back into them. Even with the charms he felt frozen from the inside out. This hunk of rock and ice not only sapped out the heat from their bodies, but the strength from their spells. Being without his magic wasn't anything he had prepared for, but he wasn't useless without it. He could throw the knives he had spelled to his body or use the gun he had tucked in his trousers. He could crush a man's throat with the proper pressure applied with his fingertips. No, Harry was not a helpless man.

"How much further, woman?" Severus demanded, tugging his robe off a jagged boulder where it had gotten caught, and Harry could feel the worry from his joined mate. He knew that Severus had also realized this place was so barren nothing but death prospered.

"Oh, we have to go farther into the mountain where our Dark Lord regains his strength. Where he is safe. Where his power is unequaled." Her words offered nothing but hopelessness. She looked over her shoulder at the two men and again Harry saw madness in her eyes and his hatred of her boiled.

As they continued down the snaking passage within rock and stone, Harry felt himself grow weaker and he labored for breath as if he were struggling to stay afloat in the North Sea. Neither Severus nor Serephia seemed effected, walking strong and upright. To Harry it felt as if the stones themselves were siphoning off his magic, feeding off his power like ravenous carrion birds, picking his eyes from their sockets, the marrow from his bones.

Farther into the mountain, into the blackness of hell, they continued, endlessly, and each passing step found Harry hunching over, his walk turning to a shuffle.

When he stumbled, falling heavily to his knee, he was certain the next fall would be his last, but he forced himself to his feet once more, certain his youth had been traded in for brittle bones and an old man's legs. Severus reached out, concerned, but Harry shook his head; he didn't need Severus distracted by his weakness. His world focused on one step forward, then another, and nothing else had form or substance. Finally, they emerged into a vast cavern dominated by massive formations, stalagmites and stalactites stretching their tips to meet in the middle like separated lovers. A huge stone dais overwhelmed the center of the cavern, surrounded by heatless balls of white light hovering inches from the ceiling, breeding deep shadows in odd angles and shapes. Dread coated every particle in the air, permeating everything like a virus, and Harry actually worried that this might be the end of him and Severus and the future of the free world. But he felt a feather-light touch brush his mind, and with it came comfort and faith and he drew strength from that touch and lifted himself straight once more to face the withered thing before him.

From the dais the words came.

"Severus," a brittle voice said, sending shivers up and down Harry's spine, the kind of shivers you get when you come upon a carcass overridden with maggots teaming in their search for rot and offal. "Have you come to beg me to welcome you back? I see that you have brought me a gift." With a strained shuffle, the dried husk of a man rose into view and laughed, and his laughter wheezed like crushed, dead leaves.

"My Lord!" exclaimed the veela, who ran up to the dais and fell to her knees, prostrating herself among the stones and gravel of the floor in obeisance. "I have brought them, as you asked."

"Yes. Serephia, you have done well and you shall be rewarded." A mummified hand reached out, skeletal, reminding Harry of the hand of the Dementor he had spied so many years ago, and touched the top of the veela's head. Harry and Severus watched as the bindings on her wings broke free and she unfurled them freely, flapping strongly to let lose gray feathers shimmering in the harsh light, casting her spell upon the room.

The Death Eaters, before hidden in the many corners and fissures of the cave, stepped forward in reverence and adoration for the beautiful woman, her charcoal wings a singular spectacle of her noble breeding, her face so smooth and placid in perfection, her eyes bright and intense as they looked upon the one thing that could control her. Voldemort.

Harry stepped closer to Severus and the two stood side by side as the veela subjugated herself to the hollow man before her, surrounded by his loyal followers.

"Severus, now?" Harry asked, allowing the older man with a grudge the potential for some payback.

"Yes," was all he said in reply, and his claws lengthened.

Harry threw off his robe followed by his bulky coat and drew out his handgun, aimed and shot off six rounds into the man he was destined to kill, taking steps to his right as he shot. The cavern screamed as booms ricocheted off the high walls sending a rain of pebbles cascading down the walls and from the cavern ceiling. Then he ripped open his shirt to pull the knives from his chest, wincing as the sticking spell tore out chest hair in his haste and threw them unerringly at the head of the foul man, at his chest, and into his abdomen, creating a man sized voodoo doll.

A wail pieced the air after the initial shock had faded and the veela turned on Harry and Severus, claws out and birdlike features ripping away her beauty as her anger rose. The Death Eaters moved towards the two men with clubs and swords in hand, the same effect disallowing Harry and Severus to cast apparently affecting the Dark Lord's men as well. Harry and Severus positioned themselves in a stance to receive the attack when an amused voice shattered the tension.

"Do not worry yourself. Their silly weapons cannot harm me. Serephia, come to me. Sit by me."

What the fuck? Harry's jaw dropped along with his heart and hopes. How could that dilapidated body withstand anything, let alone iron and steel?

"Harry, can you sense it?" Severus whispered at him, not looking his way but keeping his eyes on the encroaching Death Eaters in full regalia and the Dark Lord at the center of it all.

With his senses weakened and entire system wonky, Harry had little hope that he would sense anything just now, but he tried. He tried to connect to the magic of the place, the underlying power of the mountain, of the cavern, of the people around him. However, something was blocking him and it was tied in with the draining effect he felt.

_"Where is it? Where is it?"_ he wondered to himself as he searched for the source of the drain and saw that it wasn't just one thing, not any of the Death Eaters, not some hidden artifact, but the entire cavern. It was sucking out life and magic and strength, focusing all of the energy right at the center of the platform; right where Voldemort sat.

This entire cave was like a Muggle battery charger and he was extra juice to strengthen his enemy. Great. Just fucking great.

He would just have to cut that connection. Unfortunately, he had no clue how. Fervently, he hoped the others would discover this cavern and stand by his side.

"You brought me Harry Potter, my pet. Such a precious gift. He, along with my Severus." Voldemort chuckled again, the sound dry and haunted. The man looked more reptilian than ever before, his skin scaly, smooth and gray.

He had to buy some time, he needed to think. First thing first, he had to get closer. If bullets didn't work, maybe the firm grip of his fingers on that skeletal throat would do. So he took a step forward and asked: "How did you do it? How did I not kill you with my shots and blades?"

"Because," answered Severus, "such physical trauma will do nothing to a body already dead."

A sharp glance at Severus revealed his confusion to his mate, then he looked back at Voldemort.

"What are you then?" Harry demanded, annoyed with himself and this entire situation. He took in a deep breath, struggling against his exhaustion.

"Ahhh," Voldemort said, amused. "I am not so different from my dear Severus." The words slithered down Harry's spine.

"You're nothing like him. You're nothing but filth," Harry said, spit spraying from his numbed lips.

A cackle echoed through the great chamber and a few of the Death Eaters joined their Lord, more relaxed now that the tables were turned. "Always so hot-headed."

"Hot-headed? You're the idiot who, year after year, tried to kill a child; who was defeated by a little baby. You were driven by half a prophecy and couldn't do anything about it. And on the eve of your demise, you ran away. You. Ran. Away. And I've been turned into _you_," he screamed, "wasting _my_ life to chase _you_ down for ten fucking years. Let's end this, you weak, little man. Let's end this _now_." He was halfway across the chamber now, had been closing in step by trembling step, when he launched himself towards the dais.

It was Serephia's high, cawing laugh that now echoed through the chamber and it pulled Harry up short. He was mere feet away, and the veela, more birdish now that even before, laughed. A cloud of feathers floated weightlessly through the air. He saw that Voldemort was stroking her wing like that of a pet Kneazle and she looked content enough to purr.

"Prophecies mean nothing, wizard. Not when fate is but putty in your hands." Her words now came hard without her soft lips to mold them into melody.

"What?" Harry demanded from the woman.

"If you can't fulfill a prophecy, change it," Voldemort said while he stroked Serephia. "I no longer need worry about you. I know I will win this battle, and the next, and my followers will grow and I will rule as I always knew I would. There is nothing you can do." Then he turned from Harry and set those red eyes directly on Severus. "So now, my once faithful servant. Will you join with me again? The stars have been rewritten, the lines in your palm re-laid and all the tea leaves in the world would say it was so." At that Harry swore he did hear Serephia purr and he panicked because what if it was true? Ginny hadn't been able see anything about this event. Something was blocking her oracular ability. What if it was this veela, this odd, charcoal-feathered woman so devoted to one of the most evil men on earth? What power on earth could fight against fate?

But Severus had joined with him, not her. She wasn't in completely control.

And then it seemed that all hope was lost when Severus dropped to the ground on one knee, bowed his head and said, "Yes, my Lord. I will rejoin you."

"Severus! What're you doing?" Harry cried out. "Don't give up! We can still beat him."

"Ah, Severus, you have rejoined me. I hope you intend on proving your renewed loyalty?"

With superhuman speed Severus stood and turned on Harry, gripping his throat in one strong hand and wrapping his other arm around Harry's waist, pulling him close. Close enough to see into those calm eyes and gain his own senses back. Severus hadn't turned on him, he could feel it through their bond. There was no way he _could_ turn on him… but wouldn't Voldemort know that?

Especially being what he claimed to be: something like Severus. A vampire? Was Voldemort also a vampire?

Severus' visage twisted into that of contempt, a look familiar from Harry's years at Hogwarts, and turned towards Voldemort, dragging Harry roughly with him. Through his shock and confusion, Harry could sense through the bond frantic emotions, thoughts and energies. Energies! The point of joining was to borrow from Severus… But how could he hurt Voldemort? Destroying the body wasn't any use… Then he realized it wasn't his body that needed to be destroyed, but his soul, the final shard.

Harry's thoughts rampaged through his mind. "_Voldemort was like Severus, body dead… or undead,"_ he pondered while he put up a struggle against Severus' rough treatment. "_But he couldn't be a vampire or he should know more about our joining. Didn't he send Serephia to join with Severus? Ahh, but maybe that was to control him, not get his power for her. And why would he increase the power of his servant in case she ever turn on him? Why did he need Severus? What was it Severus knew?"_

Thoughts raced through Harry's mind as Severus pushed him to the ground by the platform where Voldemort and Serephia now sat, cozy as two school sweethearts sitting at Kissing Point.

"Here he is, my Lord. Helpless and lacking power, having it torn from him to sustain your healing process," Severus said.

Healing process? Severus was trying to tell him something. All of the energy from every living thing is being sucked into the rock slab Voldemort was sitting on. That had to be it.

"I hope the dais has been working as expected?" Severus asked, his grip on Harry lessening as he held him to the ground. "I'm pleased that the regenerative theory I had been working on so long ago has actually been put to practical use."

"Yes, well, it is not working exactly as expected, Severus." Voldemort's petting stalled and his eyes flicked from Harry to Severus. "Certain modifications need to be made."

"Of course, my Lord. Inform me of these modifications and I will fix the problem at your earliest convenience," Severus said deferentially, bowing his head.

But that epiphany Harry so desperately needed, fueled by Severus' hints, still hadn't come. He wasn't sure what he had to do next. This wasn't anything he'd come across before in his ten years of perfecting himself._ "Damn it! I'm smart, I can figure this out! Do I just destroy the dais? With what power? Dumbledore always said I had that power of love, what the fuck does that mean? Do I give Voldemort a big smooch and have him croak over in shock?"_

"Certainly, Severus, but first I wish to know why you joined blood with this man, my enemy?"

Harry's blood dropped another ten degrees.

"My Lord," Severus fell to his knees beside Harry. "I did not know where you had gone to. I was taken by a vampire and lived alone and I could bear it no longer." The act impressed Harry like nothing he'd seen on Broadway.

"Ah yes. Monsieur Burne is a faithful servant."

"What?" Severus' head shot up, the previous look of fealty vanished from his face. "That vampire, the one who turned me, was at your command?"

That dry chuckle again. "I needed you to join with my Serephia," he ran his bony fingers down her feathered cheek. And then he turned on Severus, eyes flashing, "But then you did the unthinkable and now you are of little use to me." The enraged look on Voldemort's face would forever haunt Harry's nightmares.

"You caused me this _curse_?" screamed Severus and Harry marveled at the power he felt bursting forth from the man.

Time had run out. Harry pulled himself from Severus' grip, drew his wand for the needed focus and cast the Adsorption spell, aiming it not at Voldemort or Serephia, but at the dais. Nothing happened. The spell had fizzled and Harry's heart hammered against his ribs in panic. But then, a trickle, a tiny taste of magic began seeping into Harry. However, it was wrong, something was wrong. Then a rush of tainted, fetid magic swarmed Harry and blasted him away from the others, slamming him into a low-hanging stalactite layered with ice where he tumbled to the ground.

The Dark magic thrummed through his veins, fried his nerves, and overwhelmed every thought he tried to eke free from the tremendous throbbing promising to burst his brain open and splatter the frozen ice crystals with gray matter and blood.

And Voldemort laughed. And Severus screamed. And Harry struggled to control the invading Darkness within him as the Death Eaters stepped forward, weapons drawn. And all the while feathers slowly settled to the ground, like falling snow, delicate and eternal.

"_Severus, I need you. Help me. Help me control this."_

Harry screamed at the pain as something struggled to burst forth from his chest, rip its way out of his body to take form. But then he felt a comforting coolness tingle through his body starting from his heart and spreading throughout his veins. It bathed him and restored him and with that energy he stood again, aglow with the combined powers of evil wizard and vampire. Of nemesis and love.

And of their power he drank.

"What?" Voldemort asked quietly in his shock. "How can you stand? How can this thing be? Get him!" Then the tired, dead body of Voldemort, full of holes and dripping coagulated sepia, commenced to shake, shudder like a palsy victim. Serephia stared over at her Lord in dismay, reaching out to him as he hunched over into himself as the stolen magic no longer sustained him.

And the first blow from an elder staff smacked Harry against the knee, and he ducked under a sword swipe for his head, as the Death Eaters tried to take him down.

"My Lord," she said in a whisper. "What is it? What can I do for you? Please, take from me. Abandon this contraption and take what you need from _me_! Please, my Lord." She scooped up the wilting form and launched herself off of the dais, scattering more feathers amongst that tableau of death and rebirth.

As the veela flew through the cavern, dodging rock structures like a world class seeker, the great dais cracked and Severus Snape fell to the floor in a boneless heap.

"Severus! No!"

Harry burned with the power roiling within him. Even as his lover fell, the man he was joined to moved no more, he couldn't tear his attention away from that feeling of consuming energy that now charged through his every cell.

He raised his arm, wand held firmly in his hand, as he faced down the Death Eaters surrounding him. They beat upon him with hardened staves and cudgels. They cut at him with knives and swords. Like filling his lungs with air, Harry collected the magic with in him and with an explosive release he pulsed the magic out through his pores, forcing it, pure and unfocused, out of his very being. The wave of magic, blue and red and swirling black, blasted into the Dark wizards and witches surrounding him, their identities no longer protected by a pure white mask as the curse tore at their clothing, their masks, their skin.

"No!" he screamed again, turning aside a drive like nothing he'd ever felt before, a drive to conquer, a drive to take, to punish these people for their evil, and then his eyes set upon Severus and something within him broke. In an instant, he was by his mate's side.

"Severus. My God, please be okay. Please. Severus." He felt through the bond a pained yearning, a sorrowful emptiness and knew that Severus had given Harry everything. The man before him held no more magic.

"Go," Severus said weakly. "Kill him. His body is only vulnerable to fire or dismemberment. There are no more horcruxes; remember that. I will wait," he coughed, his body being wracked with painful spasms, "for you here."

Harry hesitated; he couldn't leave.

"Go!" Severus pushed at Harry weakly and Harry stood.

"I will beat him and I will return for you. Don't you die on me, Severus Snape. Don't you fucking die on me," he commanded and dug through his winterized trousers for the miniaturized broom strapped to his thigh. He enlarged it and mounted for the chase, let lose like a hound eager on a fox's tail, overtaken by a lust for the hunt.

He zoomed through the cavern, his torn shirt flapping against his sides at that speed, providing no warmth. Where the veela might have the same agility as a seeker, her winged flight was nowhere as fast as the prototype Firebolt 2010, and as she came into view, backlit by the cave mouth's dim light, he screamed at her.

"Bitch, get back here!" he called out, drawing his wand and casting _Expelliarmus_ to knock her out of the sky.

The spell engulfed the entire chamber, powered by love and hate, and blasted the woman. She crashed into the stormy world outside.

Harry burst forth from the tunnel and was surrounded by that familiar screaming of his mother. "No, not Harry. Take me instead."

Harry had no good feelings for the Dementors to feast on when his thoughts only lay with the crumpled form of Severus at the foot of the cracked dais. They moved towards him, but he was too fast and as he reached the broken veela on the packed ice, trying in vain to protect Voldemort, he snatched that body from her arms, precipitating a scream of anguish from her declaring that she had lost what she loved most.

_"Join the party, bitch,"_ Harry thought.

Up into the black clouds he climbed, ice crystals blooming on his glasses as the temperature strove for absolute zero. The Dementors trailed after him and he could feel them lunging for his soul, nibbling away at his love, at his memories. He would not let them take anything. He would go to his grave with Severus in his mind.

Severus said either fire or dismemberment and Harry was certain that there was nothing wrong with a little overkill. The last portion of Voldemort's soul was right here, in the weak, desiccated body he held to his chest. It was the end of the line.

He panted as he flew up into the storm, hail and frozen rain piercing his skin and gathering on his eyelashes. He hovered, one hand around his nemesis and the other lifting his wand high, pointing it into the black clouds above. Screaming to the God of storms, he called lighting and he called thunder and he listened hard to what the thunder said.

As the bolt streaked for him, time slowed and Harry finally understood himself and that he had lived a good life. He had had friends and family and he had touched their lives and the lives of others, but most of all he had loved. He'd loved with all of his heart and he thanked the universe for that chance as the lightning struck.

* * *

He was warm again. It seemed that it'd been time without end since he'd felt warmth. His heart had been dead for so long, long before his blood was drained and the curse of eternal night was laid upon him.

This must be the Valhalla and the Valkryrie were here to take him home.

Did he deserve such a fate? Wasn't he more suited for brimstone and darkness? For a frozen wasteland forever encased in ice? He had tortured and murdered and worked in the Dark. He had betrayed, more than once.

But not Dumbledore. And not Harry. And those were the only two that mattered. Now he was numb and warm and little else mattered, for the struggle was over. He could do nothing more to bring himself any farther down this path of life, for he had met his journey's end.

A shifting next to him caused him to realize it wasn't just warmth he felt but also fine sheets of Egyptian cotton and a down pillow under his head. Where had the hard rock surface gone, the sharp stone edge digging into his hip?

"I can't believe they both survived," said a low voice.

With great care he opened first one eye and then the next, and squinted against the luminescence surrounding him. A head of tangled black hair was lying next to his on the pillow, attached to the beaten and bandaged body of a man.

"He's awake!" came the excited whisper from his left. But he couldn't be bothered to look at where the voice came from, for beside him was Harry and neither of them were dead.

There was a noisy shuffling and finally soft, tentative steps of many feet approaching the oversized bed they slept in.

"Severus?" Hermione said tentatively. "How are you feeling?"

He tore his gaze away from Harry and looked up at the bushy haired woman anxiously wringing her hands. Ron and Ginny stood close by, along with that opaque ghost of a house-spirit. They each looked happy to see him. What an odd turn of events.

"Remarkably alive," he croaked, his voice parched and aching. Why did it hurt so much? Oh yes, giving up all of one's magic to another could have unexpected effects on one's body. "How is Harry?" he asked.

"Oh, he was beat to shit, worse than you were, and we could barely touch him 'cause he was charged with so much electricity and magic..."

"Dark magic," interrupted Ginny.

"…but he seems to be healing." Ron said with relief.

"Though you… well, you're not doing so well, Severus. We aren't sure why, other than the fact that you might need blood—don't worry, none of us did anything about that," Hermione said in a rush. "When Harry wakes I am sure you two can… umm… share a meal together." She blushed and Severus found it oddly endearing.

"What happened?" Ginny whispered urgently. "The tracking charms we had on you went all screwy when we tried to follow. We searched for hours and we finally found Harry in the snow. He was half frozen to death, half burnt to a crisp, look like he'd been hit by lighting, and was so full of magic--more magic than any one person could handle. Around him were bits and pieces of a body; we found an arm and some guts but little else, and then we found you with a few wooden stakes jammed into your chest at the end of a nearby cave. Luckily none of them pierced your heart." She spoke in quiet awe and Severus felt strangely proud that he could shock this woman who had become so blasé.

"Yeah, mate. There wasn't anyone else around, just lots of footprints at the cave entrance. Did you do it? Did you kill Voldemort?" Ron asked with fever in his eyes.

Severus began to shake his head that he didn't know, but then stopped and gently removed his arm from around Harry and lifted up his sleeve. He looked for his Dark Mark and found that it had faded to nothing but an ugly white scar. Ron whooped.

He looked back up to these three, the best friends of his bond mate and shared their excitement and their relief. He shared their love for Harry.

And he was happy.

"Let's let them sleep some more. I'll tell Kingsley and we should contact the rest of the Order and the Ministry and our mom, oh yeah, mom will want to know. My God. We are done! We can go home!" Ginny's joyous screeching faded as the three left the room and Severus fell back to sleep with the quiet house-spirit watching over them.

**END BIT 12**


	13. EPILOGUE

**EPILOGUE **

It was the largest gala event of the century, though the century _was_ rather young. People from all over the world were in attendance and the excited celebrants barely fit into the grand ballroom of Baden Manor. Members of the British Ministry were there as well as the magical governments of the major countries of the world. Every member of the Order of the Phoenix attended, and prominent members of the gentry as well as common folk. Josephine reveled in the life within her and she felt she'd finally achieved her purpose after all those years alone.

She had to expand a bit, for it was only proper that everyone have a place to stay for the weekend's celebration. So hallways were extended and rooms were added and people were housed in divine comfort, for she was magical and could do these things.

Flitting from kitchen, to dining area, to ballroom, to drawing room, not to mention the library and the countless other gathering spaces an old manor could contain, she kept herself busy, but always watched for one man.

Her master. Harry Potter, Heir of Gryffindor. Master of Baden Manor. The Boy Who Lived. The Vanquisher of Voldemort.

She worried about him and that new force contained within with which he had to contend. The Dark magic he'd absorbed was powerful, but he didn't have to struggle with it alone. He had the most cantankerous vampire on earth to help him. Josephine watched on as Severus pulled Harry in close, wary of his burns that were still healing, unwilling to be away from him even as curious eyes tracked them. He levitated small morsels of food and glasses of wine, excited in his own way that his magic hadn't entirely been taken from him. Their bond healing in miraculous ways. Harry was content through the night, always near Severus, always smiling. Happy.

The evil man they'd both been haunted by for so many years was dead. And while that veela woman hadn't been found, Josephine never intended to open her door for her again.

As the sun set on the dark valley, drinks overflowed, friends hugged and congratulated each other, and people praised Harry and his troupe and laughter filled the air.

Later, she popped in on Harry once more and found him in his room, wrapped around that dark man who made him so happy and she smiled at them together for the first time, acknowledging that she was happy, too. And as they embraced she realized that more beats within the heart than blood.

The End


End file.
